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threadsun · 11 months

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Hmmm…Alright I GUESS that’s true. If I’m not put back in my place and if I try to act defiant ALL the time, then I’ll just wind up being even more needy and desperate for any kind of physical touch~ I can see that being more torturous than anything (but I’m doing it to myself so if that’s saying anything lol)

I never doubted your ability to tell, I’ve moved past that phase when you showed me how little I knew, but like, how SPECIFIC it was got me like 😳Dude, tbh, I’d become loopy if you showed me attention and reward me one moment, but ignore me the next. Listen, you caught me in a weird place right now where I’m a little more…lenient to follow along with things so like, when I woke up this morning feeling all nice and clear headed, the moment I start reading this, it was like BAM! Words are hard again! Like, how does that work?! I ain’t trying to say you have an effect on me, but like what the heck?! And apparently I turn into a valley girl or something with how much I keep repeating like when thinking is hard 😂 I freaking almost SCREAMED! I live with other people who work from home so I’m sure they wouldn’t have appreciated it if I did lol. I like the thought of getting used by others, but only when I get the okay from who actually owns me, ya know? But holy hell, I like that reward…ALOT 🥴

OOOO I didn’t even consider getting rewarded for following orders when it came 24/7! Definitely adds lots more incentive to do them! I’m sure if you’d try to talk to Jack about it, you’d realize he’s ALREADY been doing it under the guise of being helpful. We see you Jack 👁️👁️

I feel like being the firehouse dog was basically manifested at that point with how much you were wanting there to BE a firehouse dog. What better way than to do it yourself~ Do you think they’ll make it an official position within the firehouse so you could get benefits like health insurance and a 401k while getting screwed all the time? Imagine them trying to get you to quit your job at Popov’s just so they can have you all to themselves. “There’s no need for you to work there when we’ll take care of everything for you over here! All you have to do is be a GOOD puppy~” I feel like that’s if they leaning over towards more yandere territory for all of them, but still! I’m trying to think about what duties each of the guys have when it comes to taking care of you. Of course Jack is your obedience trainer and Joesph is technically your owner since he brought you there in the first place, but what about the rest of them? It’s ironic though because you’d think Nick would be the obedience trainer, but I can see him taking you to doctors appointments if they wind up being a little too rough or just checking in to make sure you’re still okay going through with all of this. Mental, emotional, physical, and sexual health are all things he’d wish someone would check him with, so he does it for you instead (plus he can’t help it since it’s something he does being a professional dom) But maybe Ian would be the one buying you all the toys or outfits he’d want to dress you up in (and some of the other guys would love to see ruined on you). I can see him spoiling you extra when the other guys aren’t looking or sneaking you in that treat you wanted when you’ve been bad cause “have you seen their puppy dog eyes?! They were basically BEGGING for it! I can’t say no!” Rory probably make homemade treats shaped like bones or something so he could give a small baggie of them to each of the guys. He’d make sure you’re plenty hydrated and well-fed all the time! Shaun would be a little more conflicted and may suggest that you might like wearing cat ears more than those dog ones. Definitely giving “treat dog like cat” energy. Honestly I have no idea the timeline or how it’d work because this whole au is based off horniness, but I didn’t want to leave people hanging!

I wish I could give you a hug! I can’t imagine how scary it must’ve been when you had to do survival sex work instead of what you’re able to do now. Being in the place of needing to do something just to make sure bills can be paid and food can be purchased can be terrifying and scarring. Choosing to buy food or medicine is never a place I’d hope anyone would have to experience. I’m sorry 🩵

LUCKY!!! I’ve always wanted to go up to Boston because of the amount of lobster you can get for cheap AND all the cool historical aspects in the city, but they have a whole bunch of Victorian houses too??? Dude, you’re just making me want to go up there more! Lol. Did you get to go to Salem before too since they’re so close to each other? It’s definitely a bucket list item for me to experience it, but I know the energy can be a whammy like Gettysburg or Savannah is. Lots of distraught residual energy from the past mixed with excited feelings from tourists creates very confusing energies. Stained glass windows are absolutely gorgeous! I wish more modern houses held as much character and personality as homes from the 1920’s and back had. I love some 1950’s style appliances, but it’s around that time that houses started to become more generic in style. Definitely more concerning because of the amount of aggressive behaviors towards people by Gresham’s Castle, but it’s luckily it’s not a standard when it comes to haunted places. Most of the time it’s just residual energy or grumpy ghosts that cause more negative feelings, but if you ground, shield, and set your intentions, you’ll be okay if you go to places that are haunted with not as pleasant energy (battlefields, hospitals, that sort of thing). However, this shouldn’t mean you should actively LOOK for places that are known to house darker energies that can be harmful or even deadly. Usually places like those are ones that even the most talented of mediums won’t go to unless absolutely necessary. Those are considered light worker cases instead of Casper cases and no one purposely chooses to be a light worker. They’re the ones who deal with demons and dangerous entities. When I first started learning about what I was capable of doing years ago, I definitely dabbled a lot more out of curiosity and excitement (self worth and validation from helping people with my gifts). Because I did this though, I went through one of the most terrifying experiences in my life and had to stop for an entire year under the people who were teaching me instructions. So definitely be careful if you go to more dangerous! I have all of my own headcanons based off the information I’ve learned throughout the years with the metaphysical when it comes to Jack and some of the warnings of the game, but since it’s based off fiction, I have no idea how much is drawn from imagination and how much is drawn from fact. (*coughJackshowsmoresignsofbeingdemonicthanaghost,especiallywiththerulethingCOUGH*)

Exactly!!! At this point, we can definitely say we see eye to eye when it comes to this topic, but let’s just hope that the smaller portion of the fandom can see where we’re coming from and why the way they’re acting is hurting the community as a whole.

Oh jeez! \(//∇//)\ My mind doesn’t have to be the only thing that’s open though~

-🎃

Don't worry, I like to have some fun with my prey subs before I eat them take what I want. So I'd let you be all bratty and give you the satisfaction of frustrating me until I snap~ You're just too cute! And very fun to toy with. I definitely like to share my subs sometimes, especially to show off how well I've trained them! Though, I'll confess I can get a bit jealous. So I'd have to remind you who you belong to afterwards.

Oh absolutely, he's been like... subtly domming the player the Whole Time tbh. Nonsexually, until he gets explicit consent, but still. He uses rewards to make you care for yourself, and scolds and lectures you about it when you try to ignore his commands.

Ooooh yes, I love that!!!! They all have different roles and treat you in different ways. Ian absolutely spoils you rotten, he just can't help himself. And he loves dressing you up and getting new toys and everything!! He's the one who makes your cage all nice and aesthetic too. Nick definitely makes sure all the consent and negotiation stuff are going well, but I think he also teaches the others how to safely engage in harder kinks by using you as a demonstration. He'll pull you out of your cage and sit you in his lap and show everyone the correct way to choke you or all the places that can safely be spanked... Rory loves to feed and spoil you with treats!! Lots of baked goods and also sharing his lunch with you if you do tricks for him. Jean is definitely the one who gets you the actual job, like convincing/bribing anyone necessary to get you a salary and insurance and everything. He also keeps the public from finding out about you so that there's no public outrage, because that would make it a lot harder to keep you! Shaun definitely would prefer a cat, but he'll settle for teaching you "tricks" like meowing for him. And giving you a nice bowl of "cream" as a treat~

Thank you 💙 luckily, that time in my life is long past. But it definitely gave me a more nuanced perspective of sex work than a lot of people have. I like to look at it as an ultimately positive experience because it allows me to better understand the needs of my fellow sex workers, whether they need to do it for survival or want to do it for the joy of the work!

Boston is absolutely lovely! I haven't actually gotten around to going to Salem because I only take day trips up there to see my brother, and it's about a 3 hour drive each way. But maybe next time I'll convince him to bring Moon and I there to look around! I'd definitely be interested in seeing the place. Oh yeah, I try to stay away from genuinely dangerous places. I never actively seek out that kinda thing, I'm just bad at ignoring it when I stumble upon it by accident. But I'm not very sensitive to those sorts of things 99% of the time. I'm a mekubal, so I deal pretty much exclusively with Jewish spirits/demons/entities. And because our classifications for things aren't based on whether they're malicious or benevolent, sometimes it's safer for us to work with demons than angels, for example. But I'm not very sensitive to entities that aren't Jewish, I suppose because that's where all of my studies have been. Speaking of, I've always seen Jack as a dybbuk who is lying about the rules thing, but I would love to hear your theory about what he is!!

Oh don't worry, once I'm done opening your mind and making you wonderfully mindless and compliant, I'll make sure to open the rest of you too~ Can't skip over a single thing when I'm claiming you, after all.

#sunshine #asks #🎃 anon

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sukirichi · 3 years

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good girl (m.)

You’re such a good wife to Naoya that he rewards you for your obedience.

request. naoya coming home to his beloved little housewife and feels like giving her a treat for being such a good girl.,,.,, read: man’s gonna re-arrange your guts and have some soft moments with you after (not that he would ever admit that shsghshsj)

cw. explicit smut, riding, dirty talk WITH praising bcos why not, dom! husband naoya, sexism, overstimulation, creampie, lots of kissing, titty sucking, you might end up liking naoya and that’s a warning

note. LISTEN. this is purely self indulgent even if this is a request. my bestie requested this to me anyway so ik she won’t mind i pictured myself as the reader :) so if you don’t like how the reader and naoya was portrayed, that’s a you problem :) EDITED BECAUSE IT’S NAOYA YAY, also got inspired by @caizen ‘s ask about naoya wanting his wife to not bow too deep because he wants to see her face :)

[part of the trophy wife collection]

Being Naoya Zen’in’s trophy wife required a lot of things. You had to be immaculate, précised, refined and full of dignity in everything you did. He already did the work all by himself just to keep the house running, his hard work the only reason you were able to live such a comfortable, luxurious life. On top of that, you had an extremely powerful man trusting you to welcome him every night, and who were you to not fulfill your duty as his wife well?

The moment the black limousine parked on the driveway, the guards lined on duty opening the doors of him and the rest of the house staff greeting him, you were already in front of everyone.

Keep your head down, but don’t look too hard at your feet. Naoya-sama wants to see your face – his lovely wife’s face – upon his arrival.

He would never say it out loud, but five years and counting of marriage with him meant you knew him better than anyone. Through his confident and arrogant self, Naoya worried about a lot of things, you included. There were times he’d wake up in the middle of a nightmare in which he lost you, his arms scrambling to find your body to press it against his for reassurance. You were there, you would always be there, but the confirmation never hurt.

You bowed down to him, skin cleared, cheeks flushed, and lips glossy – all telltales of a happy, nurtured wife who was well taken care of – present before him. And you were beautiful too; the most gorgeous woman he’d ever laid his eyes on.

“Welcome home, Naoya-sama.”

Naoya’s shoulders immediately relaxed at the sight of you dressed in your yukata, hair done perfectly and hands clasped politely in your lap. He tried not to let it show too much though, even though his staff had watched him grow up, he needed to keep his pride as the clan leader. Not even his precious wife could make him tear down his walls in public, though you did not need to worry about his brash attitude, following him inside three steps behind as he’d instructed.

He loosened his tie and dismissed the other servants, locking the door of your shared room. “Is my tea prepared?”

“Yes, Naoya-sama, mixed with jasmine just as you like.”

Naoya’s hands stilled on his tie. His gaze fluttered over yours, eyes still ducked down to the floor with a small smile playing on your lips, one that said welcome home in more ways than one.

The sight of you – so compliant and meek as ever – stirred something deep within his heart. His whole life, he believed women were useless, creatures that were below him. Until now, he held firm in that, but fuck, you were always so open and willing to do everything he asked that he could feel himself hardening in his pants. Women may be useless, but once they followed his orders and praised him so heavenly the way you did?

He fucking loved it.

Naoya’s tie went flying the other room, his cock swelling in his pants as he tugged you by your wrist. You landed on the mattress behind you, watching with a heaving chest as your husband crawled above you. His gaze felt predatory, dark eyes hooded with lust while he planted his knees beside your waist, his fingers looped with yours.

You smiled sweetly up at him, so temptingly sweet his resolve broke for a split second. He captured your lips to taste you on him, the sounds of your husband’s satisfied hum making your chest puff out with pride.

Everyone may look down on you for marrying such a ‘horrible’ man like him, calling you stupid and immoral, even going as far as claiming you were nothing but a dumb cock-hungry slut, but Naoya – even you – knew better. You were not foolish; in fact, no one could handle Naoya’s attitude better than you did, and you were smart enough to keep buying that strawberry flavored lip balm he loved so much, causing your husband to squeeze your palms.

“Good girl,” he mumbled absentmindedly, the praises shooting heat flush to your core. “You’re so good for me, you know that?” he peppered kisses all over your skin, a gesture so rare that you were panting underneath him, resisting the urge to rub your legs together.

Naoya was extremely skillful in bed, his virility as a man not to be looked down on for his ability to render you immobile to walk, throat sore and voiceless for a few days truly impressive. But he was different today; his usual tight grip the same but laced with a want that went beyond than lust. You could never say it out loud, especially not around him, but it was clear – Naoya treated you with affection and care.

“I’m very lucky to have found such a submissive woman like you, but that’s not true is it? Women like you aren’t found, you’re trained,” he harshly tugged the first layers of your yukata to the side, exposing the sensitive flesh of your collarbone that was free for him to mark. “Have I trained you well, my wife?”

“Yes, Naoya-sama, trained me so good,” you rasped out, bringing your legs forward, only for it to bump against the sides of his waist.

Naoya sucked on your skin until he was sure he’d completely marked his territory, the grazing sensation of his teeth so erotic and passionate along with his clothed cock rubbing into your folds. His hand trailed down your waist, yanking the ties of your clothes apart. You gasped as he teasingly rubbed your clit, even going as far as to roll it between his strong fingers. “For you, ah, I’d do anything for you, Naoya-sama.”

“It’s my love when we’re in the sheets,” he corrected you, “When a woman knows her place and obeys me so well, a good girl like you deserves to be rewarded,” hearing your small whines at his words, Naoya chuckled at your skin. “Do you want that? Want me to make you feel good?”

“Yes, p-please, I need you,” you moaned wantonly, gathering the courage to lift your hips up and grind it against his erection. He surprised you by not pushing you away, so you kept going, slathering your wetness all over the front of his pants. “Fuck me, my love, please.”

“Since you asked so nicely,” Naoya smirked, standing up to rid himself of his pants and belt. You whined at the loss of contact and sat up on your elbows, legs spread wide open as you feasted on the delectable way he discarded his clothing one by one. His fat cock, red and flushed with pre-cum, slapped against his toned upper body.

You would’ve groaned at his bare beauty, but he’d already crawled on top of you once more, completely ridding you of the multiple layers of modest clothing you wore, revealing a redolent set of white lace.

Naoya narrowed his eyes at the nearly transparent thong, his hands cupping your seeping cunt with a low hum. “Is this for me? Did my pretty baby get dressed up for me?” you nodded eagerly, pathetically reaching upwards to wrap your arms around him. You were growing needy, soft yet desperate as your stuttered gasps hovered on his ear. “Were you thinking of me the whole time I was away for work?”

“I always think of you, my love,” you breathed out, “Your smile, your voice, your lips, your hands,” legs twitching, you dared run your knee to brush his forearm, the teasing and confident movement earning you a seductive, warning glare from your dominant husband. But oh – you were just starting to have your fun. “Your cock inside me.”

“Naughty little girl,” he snickered, grabbing your hand and shoving it deep inside your panties. That evoked a high-pitched moan from you as your nails grazed against your shaved pussy, Naoya’s smirk present the harder he pressed your palm on yourself. “Did you touch yourself? Pleasure yourself like this?” He was testing you, reminding you of his power and authority, trying to see if you would break his rules that he’d been so firm into fucking deep into your skull.

Naughty as you might be sometimes, you never forgot your place. You were daring, but never in your wildest dreams would you dare go against him. Not because you were plain weak and submissive, but simply because the thought of pleasing him more and feeding his ego was far more satisfying.

You shook your head, pitiable tears already shining through. “N-no, I would never. Only you can make me feel good, just you, mmh.”

Naoya groaned deep in his throat, satisfied at your answer. “You’re always so sweet for me,” he says, leaning over to knee your legs open wider. He situated himself between your body, slow and sensual in removing your bra and panties, the lacy material disappearing somewhere on the black marbled floors. You laid there, vulnerable and wanting, clutching at his biceps as he grinded his cock on your puffy folds. “Have I ever told you’re the perfect little wife? So fucking needy for me always, fuck. This pussy was made for me.”

“This pussy is yours,” you acquiesced, breathing hard when Naoya pulled away to peer at your body. He liked his wife to be healthy, strong and ready to carry his child whenever he wanted, and his hands squeezed your hips appreciatively.

“I exist purely to serve you, my love,” you vowed, “I have no other purpose than to make you feel good and love you. You’re my everything, the world and more.”

He’d looked at you with lust before, the desire pooling in his eyes always making you feel wanted, but this was different. Naoya would never let those cursed three words fall from his mouth, but it shone clearly in his eyes anyway. He gazed at your curves and dips so lovingly that your arousal peaked, slick coating his cock from where he was slowly teasing your cunt with his tip.

Unable to hold back any longer, Naoya flipped you over. Your breath knocked out from your chest at the sudden movement, his hands tugging at your wrist to pull you close to him. He leant back on the bed, kissing you feverishly all the while keeping you shaking on his thigh. Due to your wetness gushing, you slid down his muscular thigh, and you moaned at the contact. “As I should be,” Naoya nibbled at your lips, his harsh words contrasting the tenderness of his hold on you. “You’re nothing to me if you can’t even do something as simple as that.”

You nodded with no hesitation, fully accepting that you were purely his now – and you would honestly not have it otherwise.

Naoya helped you lift your hips up, shushing you with a slap on your ass when you stared at him nervously.

Every time Naoya fucked you, he was direct and simple. He preferred to have you on all fours where he could focus on his own pleasure, or sometimes he would rather cum upon seeing your fucked-out face, the image of your tongue lolled out while he fucked you on oblivion enough to make him nut right away.

But now he was guiding your arms around his neck, kissing the sides of your lips as if to answer your silent questions. “Sit on my cock, baby, I’ll reward you for your obedience tonight,” he said, his cock twitching as he directed your entrance right above his cock. Naoya slid you down, allowing you to feel inch by inch, thick vein upon one another – sliding inside you and stretching you out so good. You closed your eyes and pressed your forehead on his, teeth locked on your bottom lip as he bottomed out.

Fuck, you’d never felt so full.

However, Naoya wasn’t pleased. He clenched his jaw and tapped your bottom lip, scolding you with his mean glare. “Don’t hold back when you scream my name, you understand? Cherish this moment – I won’t always care about your pleasure. You should thank me for this.”

“I-I will!”

Torturous. That was how you would describe it. You had never been this close to him before; not in this position and angle. Each lift of your hips caused your hardened nipples to brush over his muscular chest, his attention sorely focused on the way you bounced on his cock.

Something about holding him this close felt so intimate, breaths tangled and moans shared, along with the pleasure delivered into your bodies with the way you were rolling your hips along his length.

“Still so fucking tight for me,” he said through gritted teeth, “I love this pussy so much, fuck, you’re mine. Just mine, all mine,” Naoya eventually lost it, hooking his arms under your armpits and feet flat on the bed. You kept screaming his name like a prayer, the worship falling from your lips like a broken record driving him to fuck into you faster. He’d had enough of your pace; he’d been good enough that now it was his turn to fuck you, and you were glad he did because his fast, brutal pace was so mind-numbing.

Naoya hitched you up higher until your chin rested above his hair, your breasts right at his mouth. He sucked and bit at the soft flesh angrily, grip so tight on your hips you were hissing from the pain. At the same time, it felt so fucking good unlike everything you’ve ever felt.

“My perfect fucking wife—a quiet, compliant wife is worth more than gold, baby. You’re my fucking treasure.”

Naoya thrusted hard and deep until the bed was creaking, mattress dipped from both your weight. The room felt so foggy with your lovemaking and you tightened around him, crying as he kept hitting that sensitive spot that had you seeing stars. “I’m c-coming!” you whined helplessly, hugging your husband deep to your chest while your fingers tugging at his hair. “Naoya, please!”

“Then come for me,” he nibbled at your ear, delivering another hard slap at your ass. “I’m allowing you to. Come. Make a mess around me.”

“Oh my gosh, ugh, fuck,” you came around him hard, your orgasm making you shake. He still wasn’t done, but his breathless murmurs of close, I’m so close had you holding him tighter, whispering dirty words in his ear to assist your husband into reaching his high. The oversensitivity of him plowing into you even after you came was too much, but you took it all like the good wife you were. Biting the protests down at your tongue, you rode him to meet his hips thrust by thrust, his balls snapping at your ass. “Mmmh, I love you, I love you. I-I love you.”

“As you should, baby. You’re supposed to love me,” Naoya devoured your mindless babbling by sliding his tongue inside your mouth, his hips stilling inside for a moment. Fingers clutching desperately to him, you shut your eyes tight, cunt dripping as Naoya spilled his seed deep inside you.

You kissed him one last time in refusal to let go, but Naoya wasn’t having any of it. He was very iffy every after sex that you had no choice but to pull away from him, wincing as he pulled out.

He stumbled into the bathroom afterwards while you laid there on the soiled sheets, weakly fisting the pillow beneath you. You were so fucked out, tired after a long day of managing everything he wanted you to take care of. To be fucked good by your husband…there was truly no better way of life.

Just as you were drifting off, you felt something damp sliding over your inner thighs. You blinked sleepily at a silent Naoya, sending him a small smile as he wiped both your cum away. He left the towel inside the bathroom before he came back, sliding his white shirt over your frame and tugging a fresh pair of his boxers to your legs. Aftercare with Naoya…while it wasn’t impossible, it also wasn’t a daily occurrence. Your heart kept fluttering inside your chest, that feeling blooming harder when he slid under the sheets beside you, his strong arms pulling you taut in his chest.

His skin remained mark free. You knew Naoya hated being marked; reminding you all the time he wanted to be flawless. You respected that and pressed a deep kiss on the spot above his heart instead, madly and hopelessly in love as you traced circles on his bare chest.

You could stay like this forever, in the warmth and safety of your husband’s arms, but you still had wifely duties to fulfill. Naoya had already done his, prompting you to lean up to trace kisses at his sharp jaw, sweet and docile as ever as you asked, “Naoya…how was work today?”

“Same as usual.”

That meant he didn’t want to talk about it, so you didn’t pry further.

“You need to rest and regain your strength so you can work hard again tomorrow,” you mumbled sleepily, “I’ve already planned your meals for the next week. We’re going plant-based for a while, you need it.”

Naoya remained silent. You would’ve assumed he’d fallen asleep if it wasn’t for his hand caressing your back in a manner so gentle that seemed so alien with him, the strangeness of it all intensified when you looked up at his face, only to see that he had already been studying your features a long time before. There was an unsettled frown on his face, one that you tried to smoothen away with the pads of your fingertips. “What’s wrong, my love?”

“Nothing’s wrong. I’ve already forgotten about all my worries. They don’t matter anymore,” he whispered, his voice way too soft. It fit the atmosphere, however, whatnot with the newfound intimacy that you basked in. Suddenly, Naoya cupped your cheek, utterly serious as he croaked out, “Baby.”

“Hmm.”

“Do you love me?”

You didn’t have to think twice about it. The answer would be – “Always and forever.”

However, Naoya wasn’t satisfied. He needed more, wanted to understand more, craved to find a logical reason behind your devotion to him.

“Why?” he demanded, “What is it about me you love so much?”

“Everything,” you confessed, the love so clear in your eyes that even for a small moment, Naoya felt like he understood now. “You’re perfect to me, Naoya. I’m glad you’re the one I’m spending my life with. I wouldn’t have had it any other way.”

“But why?”

“Because,” you giggled, “You’re handsome, you’re caring even if you don’t show it that much, you’re smart, ambitious, hardworking and the best husband I could ask for,” Naoya opened his lips, probably to ask a stupid why again, until you cut him off, silencing your odd husband with a kiss. Thankfully, Naoya gave in, relaxing at your touches. “Loving you is second nature to me. It’s not living if it’s not loving you.”

Although he didn’t – and would never say I love you – he had his own way of expressing it. He let you know that he shared the same stance at you, staring deep into your eyes while he cupped your cheek, surprisingly somber as he proudly said, “I made the right decision of marrying you.”

“I’m glad you don’t regret it.”

“I could never regret it,” he whispered back, but you had already fallen asleep. That night, you dreamt no more. There was no need to when everything you’ve ever wanted was already right there at your reach, and Naoya joined you long after, the faint linger of a loving kiss a husband only ever gave to his wife the last thing you felt before you faded off into dreamland.

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koishua · 2 years

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𝐓𝐀𝐁𝐋𝐄 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐓𝐖𝐎 ─── 𝐋𝐄𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐔𝐍𝐆

synopsis: in which you've been stood up by your date, but so has he. warnings: mentions of food. (0.802k words).

author's note: dug this out of my mountain of drafts and am happy with how not angsty this is lmfao. enjoy!!

Blind dates are fun, they'd said. It will be a nice change for once, they'd said.

Lies. So far into the wait for your date who still had not come yet despite already being forty minutes late, absolutely nothing had been enjoyable. Not in the slightest way had anything been more than boring and frankly, downright embarrassing. Who’d even sit alone in the middle of a cafe without a single drink or dessert on their table for over half an hour?

The waitress who’d come over to ask you if everything was alright just a few moments ago walks by again, a sympathetic smile painted daintily over her perfectly stained lips. Your eyes trail across the establishment, appreciative of the architecture and design of the space. It’s been remodeled ever since you’d last visited, though the cozy atmosphere did the bare minimum in holding off the ugly feeling crawling its way around your body.

You’ve been stood up.

Glancing at the blearing phone screen hidden on your lap, you check for any recent notifications, though none seem relevant to the current matter in hand. You’d dressed up in your favorite clothing and had mentally prepared yourself for the night, yet here you still are; alone and fuming.

God, a small keyboard pops up from the bottom of your screen and you type furiously. Once I’m back, I’m strangling you and no one can save you from my hands, you oh-so kindly relay to Yeji. You don’t even know what possessed you to agree with her set-up in the first place. Her plans were always bound to fail because of her awful streak of bringing misfortune upon everything she touches. Sometimes you’d feel bad for the kind roommate of yours, but tonight you are going on a hunt.

The least I can do for myself is buy a cheesecake for emotional compensation.

The gold accented table is smooth under your touch, clearly expensive even by the first glance of it. Hearing the heavy drag of the chair as you slide out of your seat, you fish out your wallet from the leather purse hanging neatly from the backrest. It’s then as you’re rounding around a large pot of some kind of a green plant that you come eye to eye with the man sitting alone in the corner. His hair seemed to initially be dyed a shocking pink, though it had faded away into more of a peach and cotton candy mixture.

A moment of understanding passes by, something instantly clicking right into place when he shrugs with a lopsided smile. It takes you off-guard, the upturn of his lips. The jet black leather jacket and piercings, along with the sharp looks he has does not seem to match with the warmth he radiates when he smiles. You really can never judge anyone by their appearance, you muse in wonder.

“No date?” He inquires in a friendly tone from where he is still seated, easy and relaxed. Not a hint of scorn is laced in his question. Instead, there is something playful and knowing shining through. Your head nods before you can think of a proper way to answer.

“No, you?” You return the sentiment, guessing that the second plate on the seat across him had been reserved for the missing date of his own. The cheesecake, the one that you’d wanted to reward yourself with for not breaking down in anger fits over falling victim to being stood up, is completely untouched. His tart is barely eaten as well.

With a sigh, he rests his chin on the back of his pale, smooth hands, “I’ve been waiting for like,” he checks the expensive watch on his other wrist, “over an hour by now. No sign of anyone arriving any time soon, unfortunately.”

It’s a funny coincidence, your thoughts stray to the philosophy class you’d taken yesterday. The professor had gone for ages about whether or not things were destined to happen or if they were simply a play of luck; a coincidence. You don’t know, you hadn’t really paid attention to his drawn out speech.

Fate or not, however, the man in front of you stretches out a hand. “Hi, I’m Lee Heeseung.” You take the second seat in front of him, worries forgotten as you fall into a conversation that lasts longer than the time you’d waited for on your own table, all worries forgotten just by his charming smiles and intriguing stories.

All it had taken for you to meet the one person you’d cherish the most in your life was an empty seat and a small, happy little coincidence. It could have been fate that had led you to him, but you’d leave that matter into your professor’s hands.

Yeji was not strangled in fury that night, in case you're wondering.

#enhypen imagines #enhypen scenarios #enhypen fluff #enhypen x reader #heeseung x reader #enhypen heeseung #heeseung imagines

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inkykeiji · 3 years

Text

bright light city gonna set my soul on fire

ace anon said: wanna suggest dabi taking you to a poker game as a good luck charm then betting you on a game and losing...or winning and bragging about it by fucking you on the table

genre: smut + implied crooked secret agent/spy AU set in the late 1950s???

notes: AH ace i loved this idea SO MUCH it ended up sparking an entire fic!! heavily inspired by ian fleming’s 1953 novel casino royale + martin campbell’s 2006 film casino royale. it is set in clari’s version of the 1950s and in no way historically accurate!! think of it as an AU of the 1950s, if that makes sense ehehe | title credit: viva las vegas by elvis | songs mentioned in the fic itself: don’t and i beg of you by elvis, rockin’ robin by bobby day

warnings: 18+, period typical use of the word Daddy (not with dabi), inappropriate use of the word Mister, slight degradation, mentioned somnophilia, slight dacryphilia, minimal prep, night terrors, blood, murder, generally toxic codependant relationship, one implied mention of drug use (morphine), mentions of tense family dynamics

words: 8.5k

synopsis:

Yes, as much as he’d like to deny it, it’s true; Dabi fell in love with you the moment he laid eyes on you.

Because Dabi saw more than just a pretty little thing when your gazes first met.

He saw the perfect weapon, a diamond in the rough just waiting—begging—to be cleaned and cut and formed into the most brilliant gem, into the most ideal accomplice for him—because, really, what’s more dangerous than a beautiful woman? Especially when she looks like innocence personified?

Sticky pink candy, translucent and gleaming with saliva, clacks against teeth as you roll the heart-shaped lollipop around in your mouth, twirling the stick between your index finger and your thumb.

Legs kick idly as you lean back on your other hand, seated on the edge of Tomura’s massive, pristine mahogany desk, watching as his personal tailor helps Dabi shrug on a navy tuxedo jacket, stitched and sown perfectly to his measurements.

“I dunno,” he’s saying as he pivots his body a little, making a face at himself in the mirror. “I still think the black looks better,”

Ruby eyes roll up towards the ceiling, a frustrated groan spilling from between Tomura’s lips.

“You always think the black looks better. We’re going with the navy, it brings out your eyes,” he gives the back of Dabi’s head a sharp look before strolling towards you, features softening as he observes—the perfect picture of innocence, legs swinging slowly in cute little motions, strawberry lollipop sucked against the roof of your mouth, sparkling eyes floating from your boyfriend’s broad shoulders to his—your—boss’s face as he advances.

“Gimme some,” he demands, large hands finding your knees and halting your movement, using his hipbones to push them wider, making a space for himself between them and sticking his tongue out. With a giggle, you place the now misshapen candy on his tongue, gasping loudly as he snatches the candy from you, movements too quick for you to catch, and jumps away with the grace of a cat.

“Daddy!”

Tomura snickers around the lollipop in his mouth, sucking it into his cheek as he speaks around it. “Aw, come now, don’t pout,” his bottom lip pushes out to mimic your expression, tilting his head in false sympathy. “I’m sure your Mister will buy you another,”

“He better,” you mumble through your pout, eyebrows knitting together as arms cross tightly over your chest, eyes flitting to Dabi.

“I will, dollface, I will,” he vows distractedly, gaze not straying from his fingers reflected in the mirror as they fiddle with his bowtie.

“Promise, Mister?”

“Promise, baby, promise,”

Dabi’s already been briefed on the specifics of this mission—something to do with playing a poker game with a bunch of other crooked hotshots at the Sahara hotel in Las Vegas, but that’s all you know. That’s all you’re authorized to know.

Despite being Dabi’s accomplice and working for Tomura’s underground organization, you’re rarely allowed to be in Tomura’s office while the briefing happens. It’s sensitive information, dollface, and the less you know the better, and don’t misbehave now, sit pretty and quiet like a good little girl until the big boys are finished, and then Daddy and Mister will give you a pretty reward.

But! you had protested with a bottom lip involuntarily jutted out. But maybe, if I know more, I can be of better help—

But Tomura had shut that idea down before it had even finished leaving your lips.

No. Absolutely not. It’s for your own good—your own safety, you little brat—why can’t you understand that?

You do understand that, you’ve been told a thousand times—your specialty is distractions, used to keep enemies occupied before Dabi splatters their brains on marble floors, or to pry information out of men weak to the smile of a pretty girl.

And, to be fair, Tomura does reward you pretty generously, with glittering evening gowns and designer pumps and all the handbags a gal could ever want.

You turn back to face him, red lips spread into a cunning, mischievous smile, a smile he knows all too well, a smile Dabi loves—because he taught it to you—and Tomura hates—because it means you’re about to get what you want. “So. How much money are you giving me to play with this time, Daddy?”

Tomura’s face screws up, nose scrunching. “None,” he spits, removing the lollipop from his mouth. Tiny hands grab at the air, reaching for it like a child, Tomura swiping it just out of grasp as he continues his scolding. “Last time, you nearly bought the entire shopping complex,”

“Ah, c’mon, boss,” Dabi says around a cigar, still standing in front of the full-length mirror and smoothing down his clothing. “Give the lil lady a lil somethin’, will ya?”

“Yeah, boss, c’mon,” you plead, mimicking your boyfriend, adorning your face with your signature pout and award-winning puppy-dog eyes.

“Absolutely not.” His voice is stern as he speaks, facial features hard in finality and resolution, but his eyes—irises a crimson so brilliant, so beautiful it’s terrifying, almost looks as if it’s glowing—are beginning to waver.

“You know, if you don’t, then I’m sure I’ll get bored in that big city all by myself while Dabi’s working,” you begin in a singsong voice, eyebrows raising. “And you know what happens when I get bored, Daddy,”

“She gets int’a trouble,” Dabi grumbles, eyes catching yours through the mirror, though there’s a smirk forming around the cigar, held between sharp gleaming ivory teeth.

“S’true,” you nod simply, eyelashes fluttering as you gaze at Tomura. “Please, Daddy? Pretty please? I swear I won’t spend too much this time,”

“Jus’ give ‘er your credit card r’somethin’,” Dabi waves a hand in nonchalance before patting down his pockets. “I’ll keep a’eye on ‘er, promise,”

“Take that damn cigar out of your mouth and speak properly,” Tomura spits, and you and Dabi share another look, another smirk, through the mirror. “Fine, alright? Fine,” nimble fingers pull out a sleek leather wallet, flipping it open and searching through the card slots, grumbling to himself. “Christ, the two of you are insufferable, I swear to God,”

“Thank you, Daddy,” you giggle, soft and gentle and innocent, all of the things you weren’t mere moments ago. Platinum plastic gleams in your fingers as you tilt the card in the light, gaze captivated by the way it sparkles and glitters as you speak again. “Promise I’ll bring you back something neat,”

✰ ✰ ✰

It’s been a few years now since the two of you met, since the two of you became partners, and Dabi swears to high heaven and back that he had tried his hardest not to fall in love with you, cross his heart, hope to die.

At least, that’s what he likes to tell himself. In actuality, he fell for you the moment he laid eyes on you—it’s as cliché and cheesy as one of those Jimmy Dean flicks, but goddamn it, it’s true all the same.

Doesn’t help that that’s one of the first things you said to him, though.

You look like Jimmy Dean, Mister, you had giggled dainty behind your hand, batting those long, thick eyelashes as you gazed up at him, gracious and polite and all the things a good little girl like you should be. Is supposed to be.

It made him want to fucking ruin you. It sparked a white-hot fire deep in the pit of his stomach, a blaze that grew, and grew, and grew with each of your cute mannerisms. It procured an inferno full of pure desire, heady and intoxicating, that nearly engulfed him in an instant.

“Oh, yeah?” he had asked with a smirk, leaning against the wall and crossing his arms over his chest, tongue running along his front teeth as he steadily held your eyes. “‘N why’s that, little miss?”

Those eyes, the sparkling ones that had been so bold only a moment ago, bashfully flitted down to the teal typewriter sitting in front of you on a large oak desk, fiddling a little with your nails against the worn keys.

Baby pink. Cute.

“Oh I—I—” your gaze flashed up to his for a moment, intense cobalt burning into your very skull, before you averted your stare again. “Well, I-I don’t mean to be rude, Mister, it’s just that—your hair,”

Sapphire eyes flicked up, as if to gaze at his forehead, as if he were able to see his own hair from just that motion, eyebrows raising with the action.

“S’all messy like the way he wears his. You know, when he’s not doing a picture and all that,”

And you noticed your mistake immediately, eyes widening, tongue tripping over your words in your haste to correct yourself, to speak properly, like a lady. “I-It’s all messy, s-sorry, excuse me, it’s all messy like the way he wears his,”

A smirk, slow and dangerous, spread across his face as he observed you, tilting his head a little as his eyes travelled down your neck, to your shoulders and the sweetheart neckline of that pretty, pretty dress, and then back up again, narrowing slightly as they did so. It’s in that moment that Dabi first wondered what you’d sound like underneath him while sharp hipbones bruise his name into the tender flesh of your inner thighs, how you’d slur your words together then.

His voice was a touch huskier when he spoke again. “You like Jimmy, miss?”

“I sure do,” you nodded, painted lips morphing into a little melancholic smile as you looked down at the typewriter again. “It’s a real shame he passed,”

“Sure is,” Dabi mimicked your movement, giving a simple nod in agreement. “But thank you for the compliment, doll, I’ll take it,”

Your head snapped back up. “Oh, c’mon, m’not stupid y’know,” you huffed with a roll of your eyes and a light laugh.

“No?”

The traces of amusement that played in his azure eyes had your own narrowing a little in response, sitting up straighter as you rolled your shoulders back.

“No,” you shook your head. “I know who you are,”

“Yeah? And who’s that?”

“Touya.”

And it’s the way you said his birthname, the way your lips curled into a devious little smile around the word, the way one of your perfectly arched eyebrows raised in question, in challenge, that had confirmed it for him, right then and there, in that stupidly luxurious office.

“Touya Todoroki.”

He was sure he had to have you. He was positive he had to make you his—forever.

“You’ve been compared to Jimmy since he debuted—”

“And you know this because—”

“—because I read Time and Vogue and all those other stupid magazines, just like all the other women in this country. And I’ve seen you,” you paused to point a manicured nail at him. “On or in every single one,”

Oh, and he was sure you had, sure you knew that he was notorious for stealing several of his father’s girlfriends when he was in his early twenties, infamous for fucking them and then selling the Polaroid’s and information to vying tabloids and the like. He always did like to spice up those stories a little, to fluff them and make them a hint more scandalous, glamorous—those ones always sold for more.

Not that he needed the money.

“It’s rude to point, baby,” he winked before he straightened up, pushed himself off the wall and stalked towards your desk, stopping in front of it as large hands splayed out on the wood, and leaned close to your face.

“And I don’t go by that name anymore, sweetheart,” he had told you, voice smooth as scotch over ice, though something dangerous glinted in his eyes as they carefully searched your face, something omnious etched into the sharp smile on his face

A shiver crawled up your spine, frosty and slow, fingers tiptoeing up each vertebra as you nodded your understanding. “Y-Yes, sir,”

The door to your boss’s office had swung open then, Dabi straightening up and spreading his arms out in a grand sweeping movement.

“David!” he greeted as if the two were old friends, large smile stretched too tight across his face as he walked forward and clapped a large hand on the smaller man’s shoulder. “How are you doing?”

He murdered your boss that day. You didn’t know, of course, didn’t have a goddamn clue until over a month later, Dabi had made sure of that. But by the time you found out, you were already in too deep; too enamoured by him, wholly captivated by him in every sense of the word, too dependant on him, to care at all.

He had made it quick—quiet and painless and looking as if it was an accident, strolling out of the office only a few moments later and asking you out on a date like nothing had happened, words flowing smoothly from his lips in that drawl that is so distinctly him, almost lazy in a way, glittering lidded sapphire scalding your skin with its intensity.

Yes, as much as he’d like to deny it, it’s true; Dabi fell in love with you the moment he laid eyes on you.

Because Dabi saw more than just a pretty little thing when your gazes first met.

Nothing, that’s what.

Honestly, he did you a favour—he swears he could see it in your eyes, sparkling as they gazed at him like he sculpted the moon himself, pleading for someone—for him—to come along and take care of you, to put you in your place, to keep you in line, absolutely desperate for someone to mold you, shape you, construct and arrange you into his most perfect creation.

Perfect, perfect, perfect, that’s what you are; so good for him, so obedient and compliant, always hanging on his every word and eagerly awaiting his next command, enthusiastic to submit to him, to please him, to receive the praise you crave so badly.

And Tomura had agreed, too, after only fifteen minutes of meeting you, of observing you, of assessing you, that you’d be a flawless addition to their operation.

So Dabi did what he does best.

He started slow, of course, enchanted you with strings of pearls and gorgeous dresses and expensive dinners, fed you tidbits about his mysterious lifestyle, about his family and his job and his past, just enough to keep you coming back for more, until you were practically begging him to let you in, to permit you to join his vocation, to accompany him on the wild ride that is his life.

And that was the best part of all—you didn’t care, you wanted it just as badly as he did; wanted to help him, to serve him, to be his, without ever requiring the full story. You readily gave everything up for him, accepted his orders, his wants and his needs without as much as a single question, never faltering in your honesty, in your pure devotion to your creator.

It’s love in its truest form, you’re both sure of it—possessed by one another, infatuated with one another, dedicated to one another—both consumed by the most potent drug, this love, a force to be reckoned with, the strongest pull either of you have ever felt before.

And, really, what more could you ask for?

✰ ✰ ✰

He took you under his wing, crafted you into a master of manipulation, pairing it perfectly with that innocent kitten demeanour you wear so well, and taught you everything he knew: all of the infiltration techniques and self-defence he had learned before he was ostracized from his father’s company—a privatized intelligence agency that works closely with the federal government—the very organization he’s been working so tirelessly to burn to the ground.

You still don’t exactly know what happened. He doesn’t like to talk about it, about where those scars decorating his body came from, about why he’s thrown away his old identity and constructed a new one, trading ivory hair and a high-fashion wardrobe for inky black and weathered Levi jeans with big black motorcycle boots.

But you do know a little.

He had been the favourite son, the chosen son, the one set to inherit the empire his father had built. That was, until he got himself into an accident—one that he still isn’t ready to disclose the full details of, and you never push. But you know it had involved a twelve year old Touya—always devious, crafty, and ever-so intelligent, even as a child—sneaking along on a mission he absolutely shouldn’t have. The silvery burns that adorn his skin, puckered and soft and shimmering like moonlight when they catch in the sun, scars tinged with the slightest hint of baby pink, are from this incident. Whatever had happened after had scarred his soul forever.

Because you’ve never encountered such intense hatred, burning bright blue flames that rage and roar inside of him, the words that are spit from between clenched teeth when he talks about his father, about his baby brother, positively scalding.

But it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter that you don’t know the full story, that you aren’t entirely aware of why this vendetta against his family exists. It doesn’t matter that his one goal in life, his only true desire aside from you, is to take down his father. It doesn’t matter that he’s willing to do anything and use everyone to achieve his objective.

Because he is letting you in; slowly, bit by bit and piece by piece, the most fascinating and tragically beautiful jigsaw you’ve ever put together. He may never be ready to tell the full story, and that’s alright with you, because as you’ve reassured him countless times in the dead of night, you’ll always love him anyway—you’ll always be by his side.

That’s when he’s most vulnerable, it seems—in the middle of the night, at two and three and four in the morning, when he wakes trembling and whimpering and soaked with his own sweat.

He never tells you what they’re about, the nightmares. Sometimes, they’re so violent that they wake you first. He doesn’t fuck you immediately on those days, doesn’t say a word as he finds solace in your warm bosom, little fingers pushing back sweaty strands of inky hair from his temples as your other arm wraps around him, holding him close to you as his shaky breathing calms, as his muscles stop quivering. On those nights, he says nothing as he spreads your legs and climbs on top of you, railing you into the mattress like it’s his last day on this earth.

That’s how he likes to be comforted; that’s what calms him down best. It’s standard procedure at this point—not that you mind waking up to his soft sniffles and him shoving himself into your barely prepped cunt, or rousing to feel the tip of his naked cock rubbing against your clit through thin cotton undies as he tells you in that wavering voice to stay sleeping and let your Mister take what he needs. You’re there to serve him—and you do, so perfectly. You just want to help, after all. You’ve always ever just wanted to help. You never know which nights he’ll gift you another little piece of himself, of his soul, for you to try and fit in somewhere in the puzzle that is DABI. You don’t know the triggers—as far as you’re concerned, they don’t seem to exist anywhere outside of the padlocked barricade of his own head, no rhyme or reason to them, more random than anything else. But you’ll readily accept anything and everything he’s willing to give, the very instant he’s willing to give it.

✰ ✰ ✰

Sprawled out on the hotel bed with his white t-shirt riding up and exposing your lacy panties, you watch, in an almost trancelike state, as Dabi does his hair in preparation for the game set to begin in an hour or so. He leaves it messy and ungreased when he isn’t working, all tousled and fluffy, a sea of half formed curls that flow into each other, akin to tremulous waves hours before a storm like an inky ocean atop his head. But he cleans up well, when it comes time to get down to business.

“Every little swallow, every chickadee, every little bird in the tall oak tree,”

Standing in front of the mirror clad in a white undershirt and his suit pants, he sings along to Bobby Day’s staticky voice as it flows through the small radio set on the bathroom counter, nimble fingers dipping into a tin of greasy pomade and gathering a generous glob, a responding giggle bubbling up in your chest.

“The wise old owl, the big black crow,” he catches your eye through the mirror, a devilish smile materializing on his face as he continues, lathering his hands together. “Flap-a their wings singin’ ‘go bird go’,”

“Should’a been a singer, I’m telling ya,” you say as you roll onto your stomach, chin resting in your palms and head propped up, eyes glittering. “Could’a rivalled Elvis,”

Huffing out a laugh accompanied by a roll of his eyes, his hands begin to rake through his hair, slathering it with the substance and slicking most of it back from his face, sure to leave a few curls at the start of his hairline untouched. “So sweet you’re gonna rot my teeth, baby,”

“M’serious!” you insist, blinking at him as your eyebrows raise, watching the teeth of the black comb run through the slicked-up strands, his palm following close behind as he smooths it over; crisscross, crisscross, crisscross, fluff, pat, crisscross.

“Uh-huh, uh-huh,” he shakes his head in disbelief, though there’s the faintest pink tinting his stubbled cheeks. “I think I’m better at this job,”

What? Playing poker with a bunch of criminals and making deals with mafiosos and murdering those who wrong you? you swallow the words, letters stinging and scraping your throat as you force them back down, schooling your face into a neutral expression. “I respectfully disagree,”

“‘Course you do,” he mumbles to himself distractedly, leaning closer to the mirror to complete the look. “Elvis, you say?”

He begins belting out lyrics in an exaggerated deep voice as he adds the finishing touch—your favourite part—slender fingers shining with residual pomade as they twirl and coat the few stray curls left neglected, allowing them to hang artfully in the middle of his forehead.

“When I feel like this and I want to kiss youuu,” pivoting on his heel, he gazes at you with that shit-eating grin and continues. “Baby, don’t say doooon’t,”

“Oh, God, no, not Don’t!” you groan, flopping onto your back dramatically, face screwed up as if you had just tasted something sour.

“Alright, alright, alright,” he’s chuckling as he advances towards you, a small towel in his hands as he cleans them. “How ‘bout…” trailing off, he hums a little as he thinks.

“Hold my hand and promise,” he begins in a low voice, smooth and sweet like the finest melted chocolate, depositing of the towel and crawling onto the bed.

“That you��ll always love me too,”

Large hands gently pry your legs part, signature crooked smirk spreading across his face when he’s met with zero resistance, rough palms caressing silky skin as they slide up, fingers gripping and grabbing and kneading.

“Make me know you love me,”

The words taper off into a whine, beginning to sound more like begging than singing, as his body settles between your thighs, hipbones digging into the soft flesh while he hovers above you, supporting his weight on his forearms.

“The same way I love you, little girl,”

Lips trail along your jaw, leaving tender kisses in their wake—unhurried, careful, and full of purpose—as he mumbles against your skin.

“You got me at your mercy, now that I'm in love with you,”

Calloused hands begin to ruck up his t-shirt, digits dipping into the lacy waistband of your panties, his voice starting to tremble ever so slightly.

“So please don't take advantage, cause you know my love is true,”

He pulls back just enough to look at you, sapphire eyes gleaming in the golden sunlight and he pauses, blistering gaze searching your face for something, muscles relaxing and head dipping a moment later to finally press his lips against yours, whispering into the kiss. “Darling please, please love me too, I beg of you,”

And despite all the glitz and glamour, all the extravagance and exhilaration, that comes with each mission, this will always be your favourite part—when it’s only you and him, lounging around in some luxurious five star hotel or some dingy roadside motel, exchanging lazy, messy kisses full of stringy shining saliva, goofing around and whispering stupid Elvis lyrics to each other, words that hold more weight than either of you care to admit.

✰ ✰ ✰

It was supposed to be a fairly simple operation—minimal violence, Tomura had instructed. No guns or casualties, if it can be avoided, if Dabi can keep his temper in check. It was supposed to be easy, straightforward, safe.

It was supposed to be. But Dabi gets bored easily, likes a little spike of adrenaline with his missions, rolling his broad shoulders and cracking his neck as he joins the rest of the men around the poker table, a sly smirk on his face as they name the bets and the prizes.

“And my little doll,”

It’s hard to resist rolling your eyes as those four words slip from between his lips, slow and smooth in that deep, lazy drawl, trademark smirk painted across his lips as his lidded eyes scan the faces sitting around the table, an eyebrow raised, daring any of them to protest. Several hungry eyes dart towards you for a moment, standing like the reward you are a few feet behind Dabi and leaning on a railing, a shy little smile briefly gracing your lips in greeting, elegant evening gown shimmering under the crystal lights.

This isn’t new—Dabi usually bets you when he plays. Keeps him sharp, he claims. Keeps him on his toes, keeps it fun when there’s something important at stake, something valuable to lose, he says. He plays better that way, he promises.

Except he’s always craved that thrill of danger, has always liked to push further and further simply to see how far he can go before he topples over the edge. It’s a rush, a blast, a high akin to the morphine that so often flows through his veins, and he fucking lives for it.

It’s been over an hour now, since those words were murmured in that velvet voice, floating across the table and cloaking the thoughts of the other men like a lethal haze, most of whom can’t seem to keep their eyes from wandering back to you every so often, leering gazes coating your skin with grime you itch to scrub off.

But that’s the point—or it’s supposed to be, anyway. That’s the whole reason you’re here in the first place. To act as a distraction, Tomura’s words drift through your mind, just whisps of his voice that tickle the walls of your skull.

And what a perfect distraction you are, in a Dior dress that looks like it was made only for you, tapered perfectly to every curve and edge of your body, silk flowing gracefully with every miniscule movement, with every rise and fall of your chest.

But it bores you to tears, this poker game, eyes dry and sticky, sick of staring at the back of your boyfriend’s immaculate, intricate hair as his nimble fingers play with the mountain of chips accumulating in front of him, plastic clacking together as he shuffles through them.

You had begged him to let you go shopping—just for the first half of the game, you swear!—but he refused. I need my good luck charm there with me the entire time, babydoll, he told you, brushing calloused fingers down your cheek then tracing along the line of your jaw, gazing at you with brilliant sapphire that glitters in the late afternoon sun, streaming in through the hotel’s floor-length windows. We can go shopping after the game is finished, he promised.

You regarded him with skepticism.

“And dancing?”

“Of course,” he responded with a playful scoff. “We can dance until our feet are bleeding, pinky promise,”

Keigo comes to join you just before the game passes the two-hour mark, large hands finding purchase on your hips and pulling you back against his chest as his head dips down, soft full lips against your skin.

“Lovely dress you’ve got on,” he murmurs, breath hot against your ear, tickling the shell. “You look stunning—breathtaking—I mean, gosh, look at me, I can barely breathe,” he gasps dramatically, chest heaving against your back as he does so, chuckling when you roll your eyes and giggle at him to shut up, Kei, the vibrations from his laugh a comforting sensation, a familiar sensation, a welcomed sensation, sending warmth spreading through your body. “I’m so happy you’re here,” you whine, leaning further into him and head tilting against his collarbone to gaze up at him. “I’m so bored,”

“Yeah, I bet,” he says, something unusual—unreadable—settling in his topaz eyes as he glances up at the table. “You aren’t used to games lasting this long, are you, baby,”

A little pout settles on your lips and you nod, playing right into his condescending cooing as you snuggle into him, eyes following his stare. Truthfully, you haven’t a clue what’s going on, and, really, you couldn’t care less. You aren’t entirely sure what the significance of this poker game is, or who most of these men are, and you aren’t allowed to. Just sit pretty and perfect like you always do; it’s the thing you do best.

Except tonight—tonight something is different, unsettling, off. It’s no big deal, though, of course—you can almost hear that deep, dark voice drawling the words out in your mind, phantom breath tickling your skin.

Because Dabi’s always been startlingly good at what he does. Because Dabi’s always been able to worm his way out of a difficult situation. Because there’s never really been a reason to worry about it before, anyway. But tonight—well, tonight you’re watching as his Balenciaga clad shoulders are getting tenser, and tenser, as his jaw is clenching tighter, and tighter, as his grip on that singular sparkly chip resting in his palm is becoming stronger, and stronger, thin skin stretching painfully over sharp bony knuckles.

Keigo’s breath is bated, his fingers digging into your hips as he observes the game unfolding in front of the both of you, pulling you closer to him, hushed curses falling from his lips every so often. And Keigo knows what’s happening, of course, but he refuses to tell you, promising you that you wouldn’t understand even if he tried to explain it. Creases form on your forehead as your eyebrows knit, eyes drifting back to the table. Whatever it is, it’s clear that it isn’t good, Keigo’s body tensing against yours as he sucks in a breath and holds it for a moment before blowing it out from his mouth, exasperated. “Well, I’m positive it’s fine,” you say, trying to wave it off lightly, to whisk away the acrimonious dread that roots deep in the pit of your stomach and begins to spread, thick and dense as it slithers into your surrounding organs, to brush off the impending sense of foreboding that seems to lurk over you, getting heavier and heavier, darker and darker with each second that ticks by—though your voice sounds high to your ears, tinny and false. “Dabi’s never lost a game before, that’s why they send him to these things,” But Keigo doesn’t sound so sure, responding with a nervous breath of a laugh, lithe fingers flexing on your hips, rubbing little lopsided circles into the flesh. “First time for everything, songbird,”

The words send ice piercing through your veins, but you persevere, rolling your shoulders and standing up a little straighter, swallowing past the painful lump that’s lodged itself in your throat. It’s fine. It’s always fine. He’s always found a way to get out of messy, tight situations before. Why should tonight be any different?

It won’t be, it isn’t—you can already see Dabi collapsing on the cream sofa upstairs in your luxurious hotel room, tugging at his bowtie with a sigh as his head falls back, nimble fingers popping the first few buttons on his crisp white dress shirt, and had you scared for a moment there, didn’t I, kitten?

And you’ll playfully slap his shoulder as you crawl into his lap, roll your eyes as you straddle his hips and allow him to tilt the champagne flute to your lips, laugh it off as his hands begin to wander, rucking up your dress and kneading your ass, cock tenting his expensive trousers. Like always. You’re sure of it

It’s just past the three-hour mark when Keigo speaks again, all traces of teasing, of that easygoing lilt that is so distinctly him, gone from his voice. Golden locks stand in all directions, his hair having fallen out of its usual ducktail style, a curtesy of fingers raking through it nervously. His smile is tight as he looks down at you, front teeth nibbling at his cuticles as he speaks, muffled a little by his fingers. “Maybe we should get you out of here, sweetheart—”

“No,” you respond instantly with a firm shake of your head. “I’m not going anywhere,”

“Sunshine, listen—”

“I said, no, Kei,” you pull back a little to look at him, resolution sown into your voice, chest puffing out just a touch. “I won’t leave him,”

Honey eyes hold yours for a moment, and you can almost hear Keigo’s molars as they grind together. He exhales a deep sigh a moment later, shaking his head and tugging his fingers through golden strands again. “Alright, alright,” It finally comes to an end, a few minutes past the four-hour mark. Heavy lids start to lift as commotion begins to stir—soft murmurs among the men and chairs scraping against the floor, plastic chips clacking together and the sharp whisp that travels through the air as cards are shuffled—whining a little as you lean further into Keigo, who is now supporting most of your weight.

“Kei, feet hurt,”

“Shh, I know, songbird,” he hushes you, a large palm stroking your head. “But I need you to wake up, sweetheart,”

Rough, unfamiliar hands are wrapping around your arms only a moment later, yanking you from the warm sanctuary that is Keigo and hauling you against stiff muscle.

“I believe you’re mine now, darling,”

The words are gravelly, uttered in a low voice against the crown of your head. A vicious shiver crawls along your skin, whole body trembling with the force of it, as your lids snap open.

“Wait, what?” frantic eyes search the gaudy room for familiar cobalt, breath beginning to accelerate as you struggle a little in the grasp of a burly man with one eye. His grip tightens in retaliation and a pained yelp hitches in your throat, Dabi’s eye twitching at the sound. “Dabi? D-Dabi!”

Sapphire blazes into your skull, steadily holding your watery gaze as his jaw clenches, swallowing thickly at the sound of your pitiful little whimpers of his name, at the way you squirm and wiggle in your abductor's grasp, desperate to escape, to get back to him.

“H-Hold on, now,” Keigo begins, holding his hands up in surrender, a motion meant to signify peace, to signify that he isn’t a threat—even though you know he’s got the cold metal of his favourite pistol tucked into the waistband of his trousers and pressed against his warm skin. “Let’s talk this through, yeah? Just wait a minute—”

“Nope,” the man cuts Keigo off mid-sentence with a loud, harsh laugh, and you wince at the sound. “No way, a deal’s a deal, friend. I won her fair and square—she’s mine,”

A light chuckle, laced with irritation and dubiety, escapes Keigo’s lips as he shakes his head a little. “Come on, Dabi jokes around like that all the time,” and while his voice seems amicable on the surface, its ridden with cold undertones, phantom threats that are felt, not said. “And this little lady—as pretty as she is—is a person, not a prize. Taking her against her will is, in fact, kidnapping, and I’ll be forced to—”

“Let him go,”

“What?” the word falls from your lips and Keigo’s simultaneously—one incredulous and pitched high with distress, the other breathed out in disbelief, both equally as concerned—gazes snapping to Dabi, who sits quiet and brooding, dim lights casting shadows on the sharp planes of his face.

Azure drifts between your faces, features ridden with terror and alarm—furrowed brows and deep frowns tugging at the corners of lips, one pair of eyes wide with scepticism, the other pair glistening with tears. Dabi’s silent for another moment before he pushes on his knees and stands, squaring his shoulders and clearing his throat, voice ringing out loud and clear, dripping with admonition. “Let him go. He’s right; he won her, fair and square,”

He speaks slowly, annunciating each word with careful precision, sapphire glinting in the dim light has he holds the muscular man’s gaze. It holds something threatening, something menacing, something terrifying deep within the depths of his eyes, and you feel your captor pause for a second, tense, and then shiver.

“Uh, r-right,” he says, voice wavering a little as he nods to himself. “Fair and square,”

Dabi stalks towards you, shiny oxfords echoing against the pristine, freshly waxed marble floor, tutting his tongue and shaking his head, casual and relaxed as ever.

“Don’t struggle, you hear me?” he says, voice softer, gentler, as a calloused thumb swipes across your cheekbone, catching a stray tear. “Be a good girl for him,”

And I’ll see you soon.

The promise doesn’t need to be vocalized—you can see it, shining bright and true in his sapphire eyes, can sense it, in the air surrounding him, can feel it, at the very core of your soul.

A sudden sense of relief floods your body, pathetic little sobs getting caught in your chest as you exhale shakily and deflate in the burly man’s arms, tears finally spilling over your lashline and streaming down your cheeks.

“Okay,” you breathe.

Dabi gives you a simple nod, lips quirking up into a ghost of his signature lopsided smirk. Okay.

And just like that, all of the fear and trepidation and panic vanishes from your body, a serene calm chased by a sense of giddiness replacing it, scorching through your veins.

Because before the door to the man’s hotel room has even swung fully shut, Dabi’s barreling through, crystal handle smashing against the wall and cracking as skilled fingers tangle in short hair, yanking the man’s head back with a sickening crack and dragging the razor-sharp edge of his favourite switchblade across the man’s exposed throat.

He moves like a flash of light, a spark igniting a fire, so fast he’s merely a blur of black and navy and blazing sapphire. Thick crimson begins pouring from the wound immediately, a large splice spanning from one earlobe all the way to the other.

The man hits the shiny hardwood floor with a distinct thump, but you aren’t paying attention to him or the way he’s writhing as he tries to claw at his neck, coughing and gagging as he begins to choke on his own blood.

No, you’re captivated by sapphire, bright and burning as it surges towards you, calloused hands seizing your face roughly as chapped lips find yours, unforgiving and ferocious, bloody knife still in one hand, cool metal pressed against your cheek, smearing streaks of scarlet across your skin as you try to get closer to him, to get more, the stench of copper stinging your nose.

It’s eradicated in an instant though, Dabi’s heady scent—campfire and hickory wood and expensive cologne—filling your lungs, your mind, your entire being as it curls around you in the most intoxicating embrace, familiar and comforting and him, him, him. Stumbling backwards, you just about trip over your own feet as Dabi shoves forward, strong hands wrapped around your biceps keeping you steady. The sharp edge of the small rosewood dining table digs into your lower back, Dabi swallowing your resounding yelp as he sucks your bottom lip between his teeth and tugs, large hands finding your waist and squeezing before he hoists you onto its surface, using his hipbones to force your thighs open.

You nearly topple over from the power, from the urgency, hands flying out behind you and grappling against the table’s surface to keep you sitting upright as he heaves and pushes and leans against you, motions knocking sparkling crystal glasses and fine porcelain plates off the top.

The sound of shattering glass and cracking china mingles with the gurgling and garbling of the man who lay a few feet away on the floor, suffocating on his own blood. It creates such a beautiful symphony, intertwined with Dabi’s ragged breaths and your broken moans, with the ruffling of clothing and the screech of the table legs against the gleaming hardwood floor. And it’s desperate, and needy, and messy, teeth clashing and clacking together violently, saliva dripping down chins as tongues rub and glide and lick, hands pawing and gripping and tugging and ripping, the delicate material of your silk Dior dress practically turning to ash as his fingers materialize through it, tearing it to shreds.

“Off, off, off, I need this off,” he’s growling against your lips as his hands work, a low whine getting caught in your throat as you nod frenetically.

Yes, yes, yes, you’re whimpering, your own little fingers helping him destroy the silvery fabric, eager and anxious to rid your body of the bothersome garment.

A guttural groan, deep and dark and inducing a fluttering in your tummy rumbles in his chest as his eyes roam over your body, clad in the daintiest white lace.

“You’re fucking gorgeous, y’know that,” he’s mumbling between sharp bites to the flesh of your neck, fingers snapping the clasp of your bra, breaking it in one simple motion. “A fuckin’ angel, that’s what you are, baby. My very own angel,”

Rough palms slide down your torso, slow and purposeful as they trace, feel, knead the dips and curves, planes and contours of your body, slender fingers pausing to play with the elastic of the garter belt adorning your waist, holding up your lace-trimmed thigh-highs which have begun to tear, then hooking in the waistband of your thong.

His cock grinds against your inner thigh, hot and hard and throbbing as it strains against his trousers, digits toying with the lacy elastic, twirling it between his fingers before he lets it snap back against your skin, the harsh slap! echoing throughout the hotel room.

“Oh, Mister, I want it,” the plead falls from your lips in a shameless moan, high and whiny as your hips press forward in an attempt to grind against him. Slender fingers untangle themselves from the lacy fabric in an instant, gripping your hips to still them, fingertips digging into your flesh. “I need it,”

“Need what, dollface?” his lips brush against your skin as he speaks, teeth sinking into your collarbone a moment later, hard enough to break the skin, a loud cry getting caught in your chest. He sucks on the wound, hard, tongue laving over it in soothing little circles, slowly dragging over the bite.

And it’s a compulsion, a sickness, a fucking disease surging through your veins, infecting your mind with thoughts of him and only him, entire body buzzing with the desperate, pathetic, urgent need for him, for his cock, for his cum.

“Need you, need you,” you’re whimpering out, squirming and struggling a little in his grasp, a warning hiss spit through his teeth as blunt nails nip your skin. “Please, Dabi, please, lemme have it,”

“Have what, baby?” lips curling up into a coy smirk, he pulls back just enough to look at you, finally pushing his hips into yours, a patronizing laugh spilling from his throat as you instantly grind against his cock, impatient and impetuous. “Use your words, Mister wants to hear you say it,”

Scalding heat seeps into your cheeks as you squeeze your eyes shut tightly, a broken whine of complaint sounding in the back of your throat as you shake your head. “Y-You know,” you mumble. “You know,”

“Oh, come on, baby,” he tuts with a disappointed shake of his head, voice overflowing with condescension. “You act like such a little slut, but as soon as I want you to say what you apparently need oh-so-badly, you can’t? You get all shy and bashful like you’re innocent, or something?”

An arrogant chuckle bubbles up in his chest, a rough palm colliding with the flesh of your ass a moment later. Scarred lips graze your ear as he leans back in, speaking low and smooth, words leaving his mouth in a huff of warm, sweet breath. “You’re being bad, y’know that?”

The huskiness in his tone sends chills pebbling across your skin, a delicate shiver dancing up your spine.

“Please,” you whisper, bottom lip beginning to tremble. “Please, Mister, please,”

“Tell me,” he rasps, taking the lobe of your ear between his teeth and sucking, bruising his name into the sensitive skin. “I know you can do it, doll. What is it that you want? Tell me,”

And, God, it’s so embarrassing, vision blurring with the sting of tears, entire body beginning to tremble from the combined humiliation and lust surging through your veins, his clothed cock still rutting against your core, poking and prodding and so close, you’re so close, two tiny words, just say them. “Your—Your cock,” you almost yelp, blinking back the tears in your eyes as you try to gaze levelly at him, teeth digging into your bottom lip to quell its pathetic quivering. “W-Want your cock, please, Mister, I-I need it,”

“Yeah?” he breathes while he rests his forehead against yours, butting forward a little as his glazed eyes rapidly search your face, pupils blown to hell and lips bitten red, shining with spit. “Where, huh? Down here?”

A finger tugs the flimsy soaked lace to the side, another dark chuckle slipping from his lips as he drags a knuckle up your dripping slit.

“Here?” it presses into your cute little hole, your hips eagerly bucking forward in response.

“Yes, yes, there, Mister, there, please,” you keen, head nodding in almost frantic movements, skull knocking against his. “Please, n-no fingers, want your cock, need your cock, stretch me out, fill me up, I need it,”

And it’s your senseless babbling that does it, bratty and needy and incessant in high broken whines, that snaps the final thread of patience holding him back, and a growl rips from his chest, so violent it vibrates through your own.

The heavy buckle of his belt clinks as hasty fingers fiddle with it, shoving his trousers down his thighs just enough to free his cock.

You can’t help the mortifying moan that escapes your throat the moment you see it, velvety and pink and oh-so-pretty, flushed tip glistening with precum and two thick veins snaking around the shaft like vines.

“Christ,” he groans as he pushes into your cunt, burying himself inside of you in one swift thrust, your nails biting into the hard muscles of his shoulder through the thin material of his shirt as your hole stretches around him, both of you exhaling simultaneous sighs of relief.

It burns and it stings and God, you need more, eyes rolling back in your skull as the sharp heels of your stilettos dig into his lower back, little fingers tangling in white cotton as you try to pull him closer, closer, closer.

“Greedy little brat,” he snarls out as his hips begin snapping, the movement sudden, unexpected, welcomed, a choked cry of his name catching in your throat.

And it’s brutal and relentless, primal and desperate, lacking most of his usual finesse as he pounds into you, cockhead slamming against your cervix with every harsh thrust of his hips, hard enough to move the entire table itself, legs scraping against the floor a little more with each pump.

Inky curls cling to his forehead and temples, the white cotton of his dress shirt becoming translucent as it sticks to his damp skin, highlighting the hard planes of defined muscle that flex with each ragged inhale.

Surging forward, his tongue runs along the inside of your teeth before it drags against yours, slow and heavy, depositing his taste and staining it with the flavour of him, fiery cinnamon gum and smoky Marlboros. Gorgeous, needy little whines break in his throat in time with each strong piston of his hips, muffled by your mouth, and you greedily swallow whatever he’ll afford you.

It’s total sensory overload—he’s all you can see, all you can hear, all you can taste, touch, breathe, hijacking all of your receptors and overwhelming you with him.

It’s building inside of you, deep in the pit of your stomach, scorching flames that glow as blue as his eyes as they rage, climbing higher and higher, licking at your insides and expanding further and further until they finally engulf you, consume you, with their blaze, and everything shatters, body convulsing almost violently around his cock as you cum with a strained cry of his name.

“Fill me, Mister,” you’re babbling, begging, swearing you’ll die if he doesn’t, the flames will burn you to ash if you don’t get his cum soon, voice absolutely wrecked. “Fill me, fill me,”

And he obeys, filling your cute little cunt to the brim with thick, hot cum as his cock pulses, a cracked whimper of f-fuck, slipping past his lips.

His chest heaves as he collapses against you, the two of you falling back against the table’s surface with a thump, his cock still buried inside of you. A soft whine sounds in the back of your throat as you carefully unlock your legs from around him, wincing a little at the stiffness in your thighs.

I love you.

The three words are murmured into your shoulder, so soft you barely hear them, so quiet you’re sure you’d have imagined them had you not felt his lips move against your flesh, not felt his hot breath on your skin, not felt the gentle vibrations in his chest as he spoke.

“I love you,” you respond, voice tender as tiny fingers comb through his dishevelled hair. “I love you,”

He’s silent for a moment, your combined pants the only sounds ringing out among the hotel room, and then he nods—once at first; just a quick, sharp motion, and then again a moment later, with more vigour, more purpose, more acceptance.

Little hands smooth down the damp cotton hugging his back and your head lolls to the side, cheek pressed against the cool wood of the table. A certain type of giddiness—a type that’s sick, that’s twisted, that’s stuffed full of love—floods your body as your eyes connect with those of a dead man, laying in a pool sticky crimson, and God, yes, you love him, you love him, you love him—more than anyone else ever could, more than you could ever love anything else.

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robin-the-enby · 3 years

Text

Bliss

Pairing: Grell Sutcliff x f!reader

Warnings: none, just fluff

Summary: Grell's love language are gifts. And since you two haven't spent much time together, she takes you on a shopping date.

A/N: This is set in the era when the anime takes place, so the reader is feminine. I also used she/her pronouns when referring to Grell.

* * * * *

Who would've thought that being a reaper would require so much paperwork? The last place one would expect bureaucracy was the afterlife. It almost made her regret how she chose to end her previous life. Almost.

Of course she couldn't bring herself to hate it completely. After all, it wasn't that bad. Just boring. Although that is an enormous understatement in her opinion. She just thinks she could be doing something much more interesting with her time than spending hours filling out papers being scolded by her higher-ups (ehm ehm William ehm ehm) afterwards, only to have to fill them out again.

The second reason was you. At the end of the day, when a very physically and mentally tired William told her to get out of his sight with a heavy sigh and she could finally come back to you in the middle of the night, when you were fast asleep and she could see the open book laying on your slowly rising and falling chest and the still lit candle as you tried once again to stay awake so that you could welcome your girlfriend home, it was all worth it. If she hadn't became a reaper, she would have never met you and at this point, such a life was unimaginable for Grell.

Unfortunately for both of you, you couldn't enjoy your nights together very well, because Grell was needed at work earlier than you had the will to wake up.

The first thing your conscious mind registered was the chirping of birds. Next was the sunlight on your eyelids, like an angry mob banging on a witch's door. You felt like you could lay there for the whole day, just listening to those beautiful sounds and feeling the light on your eyelids shift as the day passed.

You felt the space next to you with your hand, the action automatical and always with the same result. As your hand was met only with cold, ruffled sheets, you opened your eyes.

Sighing with disappointment that your momentary bliss was over, you made your way to your wardrobe to get ready for the day ahead of you.

As you sat in front of the mirror, touching up your face just a bit with makeup, you couldn't help but smile as your sight landed on your girlfriend's part of the cosmetic table. It would never be true bliss without her here, you though as the tip of your pointer finger lightly traced Grell's bright red lipstick.

A series of sharp knocks rippled through the air, interrupting the constant chattering of people and tweeting of birds flowing into the room through the open window. A melodic voice you knew all too well called out to you like a siren "Oh daaaaaaaarling!"

You got up from your chair with such force that you nearly knocked it over. But even if you did, you wouldn't have payed it any mind, for your thoughts were focused only on the person standing in the open door to your shared home. You rushed through the rooms, your heart hammering like a humming bird in your chest, your mind barely able to comprehend that this wasn' a dream. But when you caught a glimpse of your girlfriend's bright red hair and her mischievous green eyes, you couldn't help but grin in glee.

Speeding trhough the hallway to close the distance between you two, you threw yourself at her, nearly toppling Grell over with the force of your attack. Her arms immediately snaked around your waist, bringing you closer to her. Pressing a kiss to your temple, she chuckled in your ear "My my, what a greeting. Wouldn't expect anything less from my love." and laughed some more when she heard a muffled "I missed you." coming from where you burried your face in her clothes. With another peck to your head, Grell let go of you, looking you up and down "I see you're already dressed. Marvelous! Well then, we've got places to be, chop chop!" She clapped her hands and turned you around and lead you where your shoes were.

You couldn't help but stare with a shocked expression on your face "Places to be? Waitwaitwait, slow down honey, tell me what's going on!" you tried to reason with her as you tied your shoelaces.

As soon as you straightened up again, Grell was immediately ushering you out the door with a sweet smile on her face. "It's simple darling, William gave me a few days off and since we haven't spent much time together, I decidedvto take you on a date. There's a lot of places I'd like to take you to and the day is oh so short." the redhead explained, purposefully leaving out the details, such as the way dear William let her take a few days off. You didn't need to know the details after all, it was all boring, some shouting and pleading here, some threats and annoying the superior reaper there. Bureaucracy. Boring and unimportant.

What mattered was the present. Arms linked, you two walked along the streets of London, chatting and giggling. Grell was very fond of showing affection wherever she went, to the point where it was almost inapropriate. But nobody really cared, since most people still saw your girlfriend as a man, despite her untraditional looks. It saddened you a little, that others did not see her for who she really was, but you supposed it was for the better.

Grell insisted that this date was albout about you. After leaving you alone for so long, even if not by her choice, she needs to spoil you. You told her you’re not mad at her, on the contrary actually, just to be sure she knows that and doesn’t feel like she has to do this for you. Your loving girlfriend only rewarded you with a beaming smile and assured you that it’s nothing like that and that you don’t need to worry, before resuming in showering you in compliments and praises, as well as gifts.

Yes, Grell really had the day planned out to a T. First, she took you to a dressmaker, the lovely lady seemingly expecting you already, greeting Grell like an old friend. She explained to you that she was a regular here and that you don’t need to worry about anything, because this lovely lady is one of the best seamstresses in the area. And she wasn’t lying. The seamstress discussed every detail of the dress with you, the fabric, shape and adornments. And while she took your measurements, Grell kept gushing and almost purring about how ravishing you’ll look in your new dress, how you chose a perfect colour that brings out your eyes and will surely make your skin glow and that she won’t be able to keep her hands off you, making you blush a nice red colour which she immediately complimented as well and in turn making the seamstress gush about what a cute couple you are.

Then you two stopped at a bakery to pick up some bread, which she let you pay for after some begging, and after that went to a nice, quiet park with a small pond where you two fed and watched different kinds of ducks and a pair of swans. Both of your hearts melted at the sight of small ducklings following their mothers in a line like toddlers in kindergarten on a walk. You pointed out to each other when a duck did something funny or cute, which happened very often.

Seeing those adorable birds eat made your stomach grumble. Grell looked over at your embarassed face and giggled “You should’ve said you were hungry my dear! I could go for some food myself.” she said thoughtfully, tapping a finger on her chin. And before you could say red, she was already tugging you in the direction of a restaurant that she wanted to check out for quite some time now, but was waiting for the right moment, so she could bring you along as well. The food there was nothing short of delicious.

Lastly she asked you directly if you’d like to go somewhere. You thought for a while, trying to come up with a way to reward her for this amazing day, you got a brilliant idea. “Close your eyes.” you instructed the reaper softly “And don’t open them until I tell you to.” Linking your arm through hers, you began to slowly and carefully guide your curious girlfriend to a flowershop you passed one day on your way from the market. You still had some money on you and figured you’d buy her some flowers, which you were sure would make Grell happy.

“Stay here, don’t move a muscle, I’ll be right back.” you said softly “And don’t open your eyes.” you reprimanded her jokingly. Grell for once did as she was told and stood exactly where you left her, rocking on the balls of her feet, until you stood in front of her again. She could tell, because you were wearing a perfume she gave you for Christmas. “Alright, open your eyes.” you told her.

As soon as that sentence came out of your mouth, Grell’s eyes flew open in anticipation. She was met with your face on which a cheeky smile had bloomed and it was clear you were holding something behind your back. You pulled out a bouquet of red spider lillies and blood red poppies with a soft ‘ta-daa’ escaping your lips. Grell switched her gaze from the gift you got her to your face, her eyes twinkling in the afternoon sun. She looked on the verge of tears, moved by the loving gesture. You took one lilly from the tightly tied up bouquet and put it softly in her hair “Looking beautiful as ever my love.” you cooed softly. Grell’s smile got even wider, if that was possible and before you could stop her, she was already pressing kisses and little pecks all over your face, enjoying your happy squeaks. An elderly couple passed the two of you, without either you or your girlfriend noticing, the man scoffing “Young people don’t know anything about manners these days...” While his wife patted him gently on the arm he had linked with hers and smiled “Oh leave them be Richard. We weren’t any different when we were young.”

Your legs were rather tired after the long day and you both agreed to go home. Even though this day was nearly over, you couldn’t wait for the next morning to come, so that you could have your morning bliss.

* * * * *

I know this isn’t for everyone, but I was in the mood for some sweet sweet fluff

#Kuroshitsuji #Black butler #Black butler Grell #Kuroshitsuji Grell #Grell Sutcliff #Grell Sutcliff x reader #Grell Sutcliff x fem reader #fem!reader #fluff #date #wlw #wlw fanfic

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writing-in-april · 3 years

Text

Plot twist

Spencer Reid x Female Reader

Summary: Reader buys some new heels but they aren’t for her.

A/N: This is my first of 7 fics for my 750 follower celebration! Thank you all for following me 🥺 Again all the fics for the celebration are 18+ but again I do have some non smut pieces coming out soon. I had this labeled as a Gender Neutral x Reader on the list at first and I had to change it to x Female Reader- I’m going to fix the pronouns in one of the other fics that I have written already to be gender neutral so there are at least 2 GN fics on the list. This is so much longer then I thought it would be lmao. Thank you @zhuzhubii for helping me with the original idea a while back, editing, and giving me some inspo from their fic handiwork and @spencers-dria for helping me work out some ideas in the fic and editing! Hope y’all enjoy and thanks for reading!

Warnings: 18+, Shoe fetish (heels), Cross dressing, Collar and leash, Oral sex (female receiving), Hand job

Main Masterlist Word count: 1.75k

A box sat on the kitchen table in our apartment that I shared with the resident genius at the BAU, Spencer Reid. The box held a pair of black platform heels that wrapped up around the ankles like ballet slippers. It was a present, though it was not for me, but for Spencer.

Speaking of Spencer- I heard the genius start to use his key to unlock the door to our apartment. I then took my position, lifting myself up onto the counter to sit right next to the shoe box. My legs were crossed, adorned with stockings, garters, and my own pair of heels, ready for my baby boy to come through the door.

When he walked through the door he didn’t notice me at first, focused on hanging up his satchel and jacket. His eyes briefly caught my own before trailing down to take in my ensemble, made up of stockings, garters, heels, and nothing else.

“H-Hello Miss.” He stuttered through his first words to me; he already knew just by how I looked that he needed to call me by one name only. As he made his way over to me, I trailed my hands up from the edges of my stockings to cup my breasts, drawing attention to just how naked my upper half was.

“How was work?” My tone of voice did not match my actions as I continued to play with my breasts, pinching my nipples slightly, causing a small ripple of pleasure to run through my body. I could tell I had Spencer entranced, his eyes blown wide, his mind now fully abandoning the events of the day

“Uneventful...” He trailed off at the end of his single word response, before finally reaching where I was seated. I uncrossed my legs, before moving him to stand in between them by wrapping my hand around his tie and pulling.

“There was a package at the door today. Why don’t you open it?” I held a coquettish grin on my face, his eyes still lingering on my figure before moving forward to open the shoe box. His Adam’s apple bobbed when he pushed away the padding in the box catching sight of the brand new pair of black heels.

“A-are they f-for you Miss?” I pretended to ponder his question for a few seconds, trailing my own heel up the side of his thigh, teasingly. Then, after allowing him to simmer in his anticipation, I finally gave him an answer.

“I’m already wearing a pair, baby boy, maybe you should put them on so we’re matching.” A deep flush overcame Spencer’s cheeks in response to my words, and his eyes shifted away from me. I knew that his response meant that he was somewhat embarrassed at my request but, just by looking down slightly, I could see his tightening slacks. I lifted my fingers up to caress his jaw, refocusing his eyes back to me before asking with a simper, “Do you want that?”

“Yes, Miss I want that.” The whimper from his lips with his words made me extremely pleased.

“Strip.”

Immediately he started taking off the layers he used to hide his body at work, first shucking off his cardigan, followed by everything else. After he had stripped completely down, I led him over to our armchair then lifted my heel up to press right at the center of his chest, pushing him back until he was seated. I turned around to grab the pair of heels I had bought in his size, totally confident that Spencer would follow my nonverbal commands and stay put. He was my good boy after all.

As I tied the ribbon up delicately around both of his ankles, I felt the smooth, black velvet that embellished the heels run through my fingers. I pressed a kiss to both of his dressed up calves, then I trailed upwards with my lips till I was only inches away from his now painfully hard cock. My hot breath teased his skin; he was now squirming in the chair after only a few delicate touches. I sucked a deep purple mark on the inside of his right thigh before giving him another command,

“Needy boy. Stand up.” After he stood up, I then pulled out my second surprise for him: his collar and leash. We didn’t use it very often, but it would work perfectly with my plan today. I latched the collar around his delicate neck, and attached the leash at the front. “If you can walk pretty enough for me maybe you can finish tonight. Does that sound good, baby boy? Red or green?”

“Green.”

I tugged hard on the chain as soon as the confirmation fell from his lips making him stumble forward slightly. I was pleasantly surprised how quickly he regained his balance. Once I was sure he was steady, I led him to the other side of the room.

“Walk from there to the chair where I’ll be sitting. If you stumble, we start over. Remember, if you do this well you get to finish, baby boy.” He nodded in confirmation before starting to walk. The first time, he barely made it a step forward before having to start over, stumbling a little less each time but still not quite perfect. Clearly, he was having a hard time doing it under my gaze as his eyes shifted and his cheeks turned pink everytime he looked towards me. Again and again, I made him stop and start over if he stumbled a bit or faltered slightly, until I was completely satisfied with his pretty little walk.

“One more thing before you get to finish, baby boy. I know you like making me cum. You just have to make me cum once to finally get that reward you’ve been waiting for.” A slight smirk came onto my face as I saw the look of desire in my desperate little sub’s eyes, silently begging me for mercy. I beckoned him back towards the armchair with another swift pull on the leash. He obediently came down to his knees as I sat down on the chair with my legs spread, ready to have him serve me. “Go on, you know what to do. I’ll even give you permission to use your hands since you walked so pretty for me.”

Straight away he lurched to access my dripping center, wasting no time diving into me, lapping feverishly at my entrance with his tongue. My hips started to gently rock into his face, almost riding it as he continued his assault with his tongue, which had now moved upwards to pay attention to my clit.

He finally cashed in the permission I gave him to use his hands, bringing one of them up to grip my thigh and the other to curl two of his fingers into my core. As he started to work his fingers in tandem with his tongue, I tipped my head back letting out a loud moan while also yanking the chain connected to his collar. The tension on his chain caused him to let out a moan while he began sucking harshly on my clit. I quickly felt myself fall off the edge, bucking my hips harder into his face to fully let myself ride out my high.

“Good boy- You’ve definitely earned that reward,” I said, after catching my breath somewhat, standing up to tower over him. Yanking hard on the chain, I dragged him upwards, leading him to stand again. I ran my hand down his chest before landing on where Spencer really wanted me to touch, just giving him a slight taste of what he wanted with small strokes. Pre-cum was beading heavily around the tip, a testament to how desperate he truly was. Spencer was trying not to squirm too much from the barely there light touches I started to give to his aching cock. I finally decided to let him work towards his release, starting to stroke him harder, causing him to buck slightly into my hand. He started to tense up slightly as I paid a little more attention to his tip, spitting directly onto his length to lube up his cock a a bit more. Whimpers soon turned into moans in response to my actions, signaling to me that he was getting close.

“You’re already close? Such a needy boy...Have you been good enough? Should I let you finish?” He whined forcefully into my neck, trying to wordlessly beg me to let him finish and finally stop the teasing, his knees buckling from the pleasure I was giving him. I was unsatisfied with his non verbal response, so I decided to push him further by asking, “Why do you deserve to finish?”

“B-because I’ve been such a g-gooood boy Miss. I walked pretty for you, and I made you finish on my tongue...” He babbled on, listing all the ways he’d been good for me.

I hummed, pretending to contemplate whether his words convinced me while taking my thumb up his tip to tease just a little bit more. I leaned forward towards the shell of his ear, placing a kiss on it, then nibbling slightly.

“You can cum, baby boy, you’ve been so good.” Promptly after I gave him permission, he let out a loud groan, his cock twitching in my hand before spilling over into my hand. I stroked him a few more times until he started to whimper from the slight overstimulation.

Afterwards, I cleaned us both up. Then I slipped off both of our pairs of heels, making sure to massage Spencer’s feet with some lotion, as he was not used to wearing heels. I got him into his softest sweater and a pair of gray sweatpants, then I brought him to sit on my lap into the armchair for cuddles.

“Did you like that Spencer?” I questioned even though I knew already how much he enjoyed it, solely by the blissed-out look on his face throughout the aftercare. He turned in my lap to face me a little more before peppering my face with kisses.

“I loved it.” He said simply before burrowing back down into my arms. “I love you.”

“I love you too Spencer.” I was so happy Spencer had fully enjoyed the way I decided to twist the normal use of heels. I already had so many other ideas of how I could use them.

——-

Spencer Reid/ CM Taglist: @calm-and-doctor (message me if you want to be added)

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid smut #750 follower celebration #750 followers #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #matthew gray gubler #matthew gray gubler x reader #matthew gray gubler smut

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buckybabybaby · 3 years

Text

Birthday Wish (Part 2)

A/n: As promised, part 2 to last years Bucky smut to celebrate this blog turning 4 last Thursday! (And me turning 28...) Two people on AO3 requested this and apparently I'm a people pleaser, so here's your update, 1 year later!

If you're not over 18 please don't read.

Proof read by way of a text-speech device

Pairing: Bucky Barnes/Reader (Female)

Word count: 2822

Warnings: 18 + Smut. Oral sex (f receiving), vaginal fingering, Bucky has a big ****, all the good stuff ;)

Plot: part 2 to Bucky finding your fan blog, even more rewards for the birthday girl

Part 1

(This 2nd part probably won't make complete sense on it's own, smut is smut but there's a tiny bit of plot)

Birthday Masterlist – the other fics I've written on my birthday in the past 4 years are all here

Main Masterlist

*****

“Bucky?” You push weakly at his chest to get his attention. “Where you serious about that date? This isn't just because it's my birthday, is it?”

Bucky's mouth pauses in its decent down your neck as he pulls away to look at you questioningly. You can't help your doubts, not now you're no longer so fuzzy-headed, the reality of what has, and still is happening, too much to process as his warm body presses against yours distractingly.

“What do you mean?” He asks, running a comforting hand up your arm.

You want so much to just ignore your uncertainties and let this against-the-bedroom-door-make-out continue, as even with your damp underwear and friction burned thighs, there is no taking away from how painfully romantic this moment could be.

If only you were sure of his feelings.

“This isn't some pity thing, is it? Because I don't want that. If that's all this is going to be, please tell me now before it goes any further.”

“I said I like you didn't I?”

“Technically, no.”

“Oh.” Bucky's face falls and you hate that you've caused it. “M'sorry. I should have made it clear from the start; this is not because its your birthday, its because its you. This has been a long time coming, I guess this forced isolation just heighten everything and that’s why I made a move earlier today.”

“Really?”

He nods so rapidly it makes you giggle. “I swear. I wish I was better at expressing myself so you'd know how much I mean it.”

“Sometimes we don't need words,” You reassure him, curling a hand into his hair to pull his lips against yours once more, letting him take the lead as you sink back into the feeling, moving his hands to your shirts buttons when he hesitates for too long.

“I'll prove it to you, Y/N,” He mumbles against your mouth, retracing his path back down as he busies himself with opening up your blouse. “Gonna make you feel so good.”

Tipping your head back to rest against the door, your eyes close on their own, overwhelmed once again by how well you seem to fit together.

“Is this how you always dress?” He asks, referring to your lack of bra as his hands skim across your breasts.

You hum. “I don't remember the last time I got dressed properly.”

“Shit,” He breathes against the swell of your chest, “If I'd known...”

Your self satisfied laugh gets caught in your throat as he suddenly drops to his knees before you, one hand propping your right leg over his shoulder whilst his other holds you tight to keep your balance. His soft hair brushes your tummy, and you fight to keep your breathing from becoming erratic when he peers up at you, looking so submissive even though he's definitely the one in charge right now.

Bucky tugs at your soaked panties. “Let's get these out the way, yeah?”

Pressing his lips into the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, he gives you a moment to catch up to his plan.

“What if I fall?”

“I won't let you.”

It's so easy to believe him when your body is almost buzzing in anticipation. The moment you give permission, your panties are ripped at both edges and pulled away from the sticky mess of your centre, your shriek of protest making Bucky grin, hard.

“Hey! I liked those!”

“I'll buy you more,” He promises, spreading your legs a little further to get better access. “Besides, your blog said you would like that.”

Whimpering, you realise this is all your own fault. A second later, however, your ruined underwear is the last thought on your mind when his lips finds your core and his tongue licks a long line up through your slick.

“Fuck, knew you'd taste good.”

You can't answer. Bucky doesn't waste any more time speaking, putting his mouth to better use between you legs, finding your clit in no time and sucking on it until you see stars. He's an expert at making you shake in pleasure, something you'd never doubted and in fact wrote quite extensively about, but it's nice to be proven right.

More than nice, actually. You're still sore from his thigh, responsive in the best way, and he's quickly building you up to another high as he eats you out like a starved man. The heat swirls in your tummy, your own mouth dry as you pull on his hair to warn him you're close.

Bucky can tell. You can feel his smirk as he doubles his efforts, his own little moans vibrating into you as the hand holding your thigh moves to join his mouth in wrecking you for anyone else.

The instant his fingers push inside you're gone. The stretch makes you cry out, curling into his hold, your whole body being supported by Bucky while you shake through your orgasm. Tears form in the corner of your eyes as he slows down but doesn't stop his movements to guide you through it, letting up just as the pleasure turns sharp.

Slumping back against the door out of breathe, you try to rest your weight back on your own legs, failing miserably when your limbs are still so shaky. Bucky coos sympathetically, rising back up and taking you fully into his arms, your legs naturally wrapping themselves around his middle.

“You're so fucking hot.” It's said in a mutter before he makes you taste yourself on his tongue.

The passion behind his kiss is shocking, despite the two orgasms he wrung out of you. In this position you can again feel his erection, still constrained in his tracksuit, and even before you've fully caught your breath you're trying to wriggle your way out of his hold to help him out.

He sets you down with a puzzled smile. “What do you want?”

“You. Inside me.”

There's no use trying to be coy when he's seen you at your most vulnerable. Bucky chokes at your brazenness, smile growing wide as he drags you with him towards his bed, peeling your blouse off your arms before lying you gently across the sheets.

Fully naked in front of him for the first time, your instinct is to cover up but he stops you, hands catching your wrists and pressing them back to your sides.

“Keep them there, okay?”

You nod mutely, watching spellbound as he stands at the foot of the bed and finally starts to strip. His sweatshirt comes off first, thrown to the carpet somewhere to be dealt with later, and then the bottoms are gone too, leaving him in just his briefs, bulging at the front and visibly stained.

You reach out a hand before you know what you're doing. “You wanna help, pretty girl?”

“Please,” You beg, sitting back up to perch on the edge of the bed and blink slowly up at him, letting your fingers graze just above the elastic of his underwear. Teasing for a second or two to keep him on his toes, you wait until just as it looks like he's about to snap to pull at the band and let the fabric fall down and off his legs.

“Fuck,” You both say at the same time.

He's big, bigger that you'd thought, and you have thought about it a lot. If he's uncomfortable under you're wide-eyed scrutiny he doesn't show it, just lets you stare until you've had your fill.

“That's not gonna fit.”

Your voice breaks as you fail to hide your fear, only glancing away briefly to send a worried look Bucky's way.

“It's all right, doll,” He whispers, the shadow of a smirk gracing his face as he guides your hand to his cock and encourages you to wrap your fingers around his length. “We'll make it.”

The warm weight under your palm distracts you effectively, and you enjoy the power it gives you over this normally unbreakable man, collecting the precum leaking out of the tip you work to set up a steady rhythm. He's impatient, thrusting in to your grip until he can't take it any more.

“Stop, stop. Or this will be over before it's begun.”

You're surprised, you didn't think you had done much yet, but he seems pretty affected if the tremble of his hands pushing yours away are anything to go by.

Closing his eyes to gather himself, he steps away momentarily to dig something out of his wardrobe, laughing quietly at your pout when he returns.

“M'not going anywhere pretty girl.” Bucky taps a square package against your pursed lips, making you gasp in realisation. “I just thought we might need one of these?”

He drops it onto the bed by your side in invitation for you to take the lead. Picking it up, you quash the nerves threatening to come back, instead concentrating on ripping the side open carefully and placing the condom at the end of his cock just as a question flits through your mind.

“Wait. Why do you have this? Did you plan-”

“No, Y/N,” He rushes to clear up. “Sam put them in my bag as a joke, seems I'll have to thank him for it now instead, huh?”

You don't answer, but silently agree as you finish rolling the rubber down his length. Now there's no pretending where this is going. Sensing your hesitation, Bucky leans in to kiss you again, lowering you back against the bed sheets while he explores your mouth and waits until he can feel you relax.

Placing one last peck to your lips, he settles, stood, at the perfect height in between your legs. “Ready?”

“Uh huh.”

“We'll go as slow as you need, okay?”

Smiling up at him, you help him swipe his cock through you folds, eliciting a joint inhale, before he finds your entrance and starts to push in.

If he looked big, it's nothing to how he feels. Your fingers scramble across the sheets to ground yourself, so full you think you might burst, and he's not even halfway in.

“Breathe for me, Y/N.”

His whole body is tense against yours as you try your best to do as he says, breathing in unsteadily. When your eyes meet you nod, and he continues the slow slide inside of you until your hips meet when he's fully sheathed.

“There we go, told you you'd be fine.”

You laugh weakly. “M'being split in two.”

On anyone else that smug look would be off putting but with Bucky, it's just makes you roll your eyes fondly. His hands smooth across your waist as he lets you get used to the feeling, staying still even though you can see it must be torture, and that makes you determined to relax for him, the slight sting where you're joined fading with every murmured praise.

A minute ticks by before Bucky clears his throat.

“This is called cock warming, right? Read about that on your blog too.”

He speaks so casually and you clench around him in shock. You hadn't even considered that that was what you were doing but you suppose he's right, kind of, and with the way he looks as he struggles not to move you'd be more than happy to try it properly in the future.

There's nothing prettier than the flush spreading across his cheeks as his chest heaves.

Still feeling full, but deliciously so now, you urge him to move with a shift of your hips. His own roll in to yours experimentally, and when you show no signs of pain he does it again, this time drawing a small moan out of you.

“Knew you'd be good at this too,” He confesses with a harder thrust, checking you reaction as he increases his pace. “Fucking made for me.”

You can't disagree when you fit together like a puzzle. Letting him take complete control, he doesn't disappoint, swiftly lifting one leg to rest over his shoulder like earlier and finding the perfect angle after only a few trial strokes, leaving you grabbing at the sheets once more.

It doesn't take long for you to get close again. Never letting up on hitting all the right spots inside you, it's like he already knows your body so well, and you're in heaven as the pressure builds up.

“Look at where we're joined.”

You obey immediately, watching mesmerised at the wetness shining on his cock, at the way it forces your body to open up to him, at the obscenity of how big he looks pushing his way in and out of you.

“Pretty girl's gonna cum again, yeah?”

It's not a question but a demand. You hum in affirmation, too far gone to form actual sentences, only just about able to untangle one of your hands from the sheets and press two fingers against your clit.

“I-I need-”

“Let me.”

Your hand is swatted away, replaced by his, rubbing circles over your clit whilst you try to not scream. It's too much, all your senses are heightened, and with one final thrust you're falling over the edge, clenching around his cock so tightly you'd be worried about hurting him if you weren't completely lost in the feeling.

Bucky doesn't last much longer either. His thrusts slow into a sort of filthy grind of his hips into yours, and then he's pulling you up by the waist to be as far inside you as possible before letting himself go with a loud groan. Echoing that noise with one of your own, you allow him to half collapse on top of you to ride out the high, still moving in and out of you minutely, prolonging the orgasm for all that its worth.

You stay joined together like that until the aftershocks have worn off and you have enough strength to tug him fully down on to you. Protesting, he stands back up and pulls out of you gently with a grunt, discarding the condom in the general direction of the bathroom bin, then crawls back up the bed to take you in his arms, laying face to face as you catch your breath.

Shy now, you hide your face in his chest, tracing patterns over his skin with a content smile. He moves the hair covering your face aside, chuckling silently when he realises the plastic tiara is still sitting atop it, slightly askew but otherwise unharmed.

Carefully untangling it, he places it safely on his bedside table. “We need to shower.”

You don't move. “In a minute.”

“Okay, doll. One minute.”

Eyes heavy, you sink into his hold, the comforting sound of his heartbeat lulling you into sleep until he shakes you back awake.

“Hey, I meant it. We need to clean up. And you haven't had your cake yet.”

Yawning, you ask hopefully, “Cake?”

“Yeah, I, er, baked it myself. I hope it's okay, I've never really-”

How can he be so endearingly nervous just minutes after he made you orgasm, three times, you don't know. “I'm sure it'll be lovely, Bucky. Thank you.”

He shrugs, still blushing. “S'okay.”

It's quiet for a while longer, just basking in the afterglow, but there's something you really need to discuss.

Steeling your courage, you dive right in. “So, where'd we go from here?”

“Well, I'd like it if you'd be my girl, but it's up to you.”

You heart flips as you sigh in relief. “I'd like that.”

His delight at the turn of events is obvious too, pushing his lips to yours quickly before stating semi-seriously, “I better not read anything about this on that blog of yours.”

He confuses you for a second, having completely forgotten what had gotten you into this position in the first place. Laughing, you throw one of your legs over his waist, cuddling up to him even closer.

“Hey, Bucky,” You start, sitting up out of his hold to better look him in the eye whilst you ask the question you've been meaning to since the beginning of all this. “Do you follow me on there?”

“Maybe.”

You shove his arm playfully. “Maybe? Bucky! Yes or no!”

“Maybe,” He repeats with a smirk, not letting you interrogate him any more as he slides off the bed and scoops you up in to his arms. “Come on now, Y/N. Shower, cake, then back to your bed.”

“Why my bed?”

“'Cos it's clean,” he says bluntly, making you flush.

“Oh.”

“Hmm.”

Struggling to stay awake, you allow him to manoeuvre you into the bathroom, inside the shower, and under the warm, soothing water.

Bucky grabs the soap when it becomes clear you don't intend to do it yourself, being particularly delicate with his touch over your still sensitive skin. “So, did you enjoy your birthday?”

You don't reply with words, just lean in to press a smile-filled kiss to the corner of his mouth, but that's probably answer enough.

*****

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky imagine #bucky barnes imagine #buckybabybaby #The gif is not really relevant but he's so attractive here so I had to add it...#Not sorry

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kanerallels · 3 years

Note

Ok ok eeee!!! I'm so excited! Okay, how about a Kanera princess and the frog au?! I was thinking the scene where they turn into frogs (or should it be lothcats?) Aka when she has to kiss him and then the line "how did I get down here, and how did you get all the way up there?" Until they have to fly away on ballons at the party? (Maybe Chopper can be the dog and Hera's just like "My dog just talked?!") Lol I'm so excited cause I know how good you are at AUs, congrats on 111!!😍

Heck yes my favorite Disney movie let's GO!!!!

Pairing: Hera Syndulla/Kanan Jarrus

Word Count: TBD, I'm on mobile

Tags/Warnings: G (for green. It's the green, it's the green, it's the green that Kanan needs...)

In the dressing room of her best friend’s bedroom, Hera changed out of her stained brown dress and slipped into the shimmering dark blue dress Omega had provided her with. In the other room, she could hear Omega chattering excitedly about the charming Jedi who’d shown up-- Kanan Jarrus, the apprentice of the deeply respected Depa Billaba. He’d swept Omega off her feet almost immediately, although from what Hera had heard, the young man had quite the reputation for such things.

Hera couldn’t focus on her friend’s words, though. In her mind, she could only replay the moment when she’d heard that she’d been outbid for the ship she was trying to buy. With it, she’d be free, to explore the galaxy by herself, not dependent on anyone.

But tonight, she’d gotten the news from the salesman himself-- they’d handed it off to someone with more money. She could still hear the man’s condescending words echoing in her ears-- a little woman of your… well, species, would have had her hands full trying to run a ship on her own. You’re best where you’re at.

Best where I’m at? Hera thought, frustration boiling through her veins. Working two jobs, sacrificing any semblance of fun or enjoyment just so she could save enough, scrimping and saving and making so many hard choices, and just when she thought she’d had a chance? It was all gone.

She stepped into the main bedroom as Omega was saying, “You know, I was starting to think that wishing on stars was just for babies, and crazy people.” She paused as Hera came into view, and a smile crossed her face. “Well, aren’t you just as pretty as a magnolia in May?” Taking a silver-and-blue headpiece from the chest of drawers in front of her, she brought it over and placed it on Hera’s head, saying, “Seems like only yesterday we were younger, dreaming our fairy tale dreams-- and tonight, they’re both coming true!”

Hera couldn’t bring herself to correct her friend, and Omega was so excited she didn’t even notice Hera’s silent demeanor. It was only seconds later that she swept back out into the party, leaving Hera alone in her room.

Reaching into the pocket of her stained dress, she pulled out the flimsi advertisement for a VCX-100 ship she’d found when she was little. Her mother had always encouraged her in this dream-- her father was a little more skeptical. Still, the memory of Eleni Syndulla holding her close as she excitedly talked about the ship she’d own one day was enough to make tears prickle in Hera’s eyes.

Moving out onto the balcony, she stared out at the Rylothian landscape, determined not to cry. But she’d been so close. So kriffing close, and she’d lost it all again. It was hard to imagine attempting this again, after how hard she’d work the first time-- and now she had to start over?

Releasing a shaky sigh, Hera blinked away her tears and lifted her gaze up to the sky. Her eyes landed on one of the stars-- the brightest one, that her mother had always told her and Omega stories about when they were little. A star you could make a wish upon, and it would always come true.

It was just a story for children. But in her current emotional state, Hera was about ready to believe anything.

Her gaze darted around the balcony. Finding it empty, Hera muttered, “I can’t believe I’m doing this.” All the same, she lifted her gaze to the star and internally made her wish. Please. Please.

She closed her eyes for just a moment, then opened them, knowing nothing had changed. Wishes only came true in stories. Hard work was the only thing that would ever get her anywhere.

As it turned out, something actually had changed. Hera’s gaze drifted to the left, and her eyes went wide at the sight of a frog perched there. She wasn’t exactly a fan of frogs, if she was being honest, although she had nothing personal against them.

Remembering one of the other stories her mother had told her and Omega, a small smile tugged at Hera’s lips. “So what now?” she said, directing the comment at the frog. “I suppose you want a kiss?”

“I’m not about to say no to it,” the frog said with a smirk.

Hera wasn’t exactly proud of how she reacted next. But coming face to face with a frog that sounded like a grown man who thought he was more charming than he actually was? That was too much for her. Letting out the closest sound to a scream she’d made in years, she stumbled backwards and crashed into a shelf full of Omega’s things.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry!” the frog said, hastily hopping towards her. “I didn’t mean to startle you--”

He cut himself off with a yelp as he leapt to avoid a book from Omega’s shelf. And then a holodisk. The tooka doll Hera threw actually hit him, although it didn’t make much of a difference. Leaning his forearms on it, he remarked, “You’ve got a strong arm, Princess.”

Hera responded by grabbing the vibroblade Omega’s brothers had given her, and the frog’s eyes widened. “Please don’t--”

He dove out of the way just in time as the knife embedded itself point first in the wooden floor, and jumped up on top of the chest of drawers. “Okay, I feel like we got off on the wrong foot. Allow me to introduce myself. I am Kanan Jarrus, Jedi--”

Hera slammed a cup she’d found over him, neatly trapping him. “--Knight,” he finished. “What the kriff?”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Hera snapped. “How would you like me to react to a talking frog??” And then his words caught up with her. “Wait. Jedi Knight? If you’re the Jedi Knight, who’s that down there charming Omega?” she demanded, releasing the cup without thinking.

Kanan immediately shoved the cup off of him with a grunt, letting it roll free. “How would I know?” he pointed out. “All I know is one minute, I’m a dashing Jedi Knight, handsome, excellent dancer, I might add--” Hera rolled her eyes extensively-- “and then I’m stuck with these.” He thrust one webbed foot in her direction, wobbling towards her dangerously, and Hera grabbed a book nearby in defense.

“Wait!” Kanan all but shouted, his eyes going wide. “Wait, wait-- I know that story! The one with the frog who used to be a prince-- what’s it called…?”

“‘The Frog Prince’?” Hera deadpanned.

“Exactly!” Kanan waved for her to hand over the book, almost toppling over under the weight. He managed to get it settled against the mirror, and flipped it open. “I used to hear this story all the time in the Creche. This-- this is it! This is the solution!” Turning towards Hera, he said, “You-- must kiss me.”

“Excuse me??”

Moving to his feet, Kanan directed her a charming grin that probably worked on most women when they were not incredibly irritated by him, and he was also not a frog. “Oh, don’t worry, you’ll enjoy it. All women do.”

“That’s revolting,” Hera told him flatly.

“I doubt you’ll be saying that soon,” Kanan said, his grin widening as he leaned forward-- and then the sac under expanded out, and Hera jerked back in alarm. “That’s new,” he assured her.

“Look, I’m sorry,” Hera said, which was only mostly a lie, “I wish I could help you. But I don’t kiss frogs, and I certainly won’t kiss you.”

“Wha-- you literally asked me back on the balcony!” Kanan protested, the alarm on his face growing.

“It was sarcasm!” Hera snapped. “And I certainly didn’t expect you to answer. There’s absolutely no way I’m kissing you.”

“Come on-- look, not only am I incredibly good-looking, but I’m with the Jedi Order,” Kanan pointed out. “I can make sure you’re rewarded handsomely for this. Surely there’s gotta be something you want, some wish we could grant?”

Despite herself, Hera’s eyes flicked to the flimsi poster for the VCX-100 that had gone flying across the room in the kerfuffle. But this was stupid. It was just a ship, she didn’t need it that badly.

Yet even as she thought the words, she knew it wasn’t true. It was more than a ship for her, it was freedom. It was a dream she’d had for as long as she could remember. And if there was a way to attain it…

“Just one kiss?” she asked, wavering.

“Unless you beg for more,” Kanan said, smirking.

That decided it. If it was only to get rid of this pain in the neck, Hera would do it. “Deal,” she said, nodding.

The frog instantly puckered his lips, closing his eyes, and Hera reeled backwards. It was just… gross. The idea of pressing her lips against those of a decidedly slimy looking--

She pushed that thought out of her mind, replaced it with the image of the VCX she’d own after this, and lunged forward to kiss the frog.

The moment her lips met his, greenish light flashed over them, and Hera felt it engulf her. Everything went black.

She didn’t know how long later her eyes slid open, but when they did, she was enveloped with some kind of blue fabric. Shoving it off of her, she looked up and saw a wide-eyed Kanan staring down at her. Except he was still a frog.

“.......kriff,” he whispered.

Uncomprehending, Hera blinked hard. “You look remarkably like a frog. Still. Aren’t you supposed to be handsome? But why are you up there? And what am I doing down here, with all this--”

She glanced down at the pool of fabric, seeing the green of her skin against it. But there was something different about it. Something off with the texture and the feeling of it.

Also, she was missing a finger.

Hera jerked to the side and caught sight of herself in a mirror. The face of a frog stared back, and she let out an undignified shriek. “What--” With a leap that was entirely instinct, she flew to the top of the dresser and crashed into Kanan, bowling him over. “What did you do to me?” she demanded, staggering to her feet.

“Easy-- don’t panic,” Kanan attempted to calm her. “It’s not so bad.”

“YOU TURNED ME INTO A FROG! WHAT PART OF THAT ISN’T BAD? I’M COVERED IN SLIME!”

Catching hold of her hand, Kanan said soothingly, “No, no-- it’s not slime. You’re secreting mucus.”

That was the last straw for Hera. She narrowed her eyes in a death glare at Kanan, and his eyes went wide just as she tackled him across the room. They crashed into a cushioned stool, bouncing up, slamming against a shelf, then down again and landing on a precariously balanced sniper rifle of Omega’s. Before Hera could act on the many threats she had boiling in her head, a book toppled off the shelf and landed on one end of the rifle, catapulting both her and Kanan out of the room, over the balcony and into the party below.

They plummeted towards the band below, landing on the drums. The drummer, a big male Togruta, instantly went after them with his drumsticks as they both dove away from him and attempted to make a break for it.

Hera heard the other band members start a faster song to match the renewed tempo as she and Kanan went flying through the air and landed on the nearest person. Unfortunately, it happened to be Omega. And it was less landing then falling down the back of her dress.

She started hopping around frantically with yelps of shock. As they were jolted around, Kanan remarked, “You know, for a costume ball, you’d think they’d be a little more welcoming!”

“This is not the time for jokes,” Hera snarled.

As Omega toppled over, the two of them managed to escape out of her voluminous hoop skirt, just in time to hear Hunter, Omega’s father figure/brother, shout, “CHOPPER! GET THE FROGS!”

Karabast. Hera caught sight of Chopper-- the tame vornskr that Hera had befriended-- jerk his head up, then bolt towards them. Next to her, Kanan grabbed her hand. “Run!”

As he leapt from the skirt to the nearby buffet table, flying past the shocked Kanan-lookalike, Hera snapped, “I can’t run, I’m a frog, thanks to you!”

“Then hop!” They landed on the buffet table, Hera almost slipping off the edge. Kanan hauled her up quickly and the two of them started hopping frantically down the table as Chopper came flying after them, scrabbling at the tablecloth. “Down!” Kanan shouted. “Down, you kriffing monster dog!”

Chopper did not listen, partially because he was not a dog, and partially because he was Chopper. Kanan and Hera kept going-- straight towards a pair of guests. One of them brandished a fake sword that looked a little too sharp, and swung at them viciously. At the exact same time, the man next to him, wearing a boga hat, ducked, and the sword severed the top of the hat. The hat dropped on top of Kanan and Hera, effectively covering their vision.

The next few minutes were a haze of chaos-- shouting and yelling and a lot of running. Finally, the boga hat came off of them, and both Kanan and Hera went flying forward, tangling in the strings of a bundle of balloons.

Hera frantically tried to disentangle herself as she spotted Chopper still charging towards them. “Wait! Chopper!” she shouted.

Kanan had other ideas. Grabbing the string of balloons, he jerked them free. “Going up!”

As the balloons zipped up into the air, Chopper lunged for them, and Hera shouted, “Chopper, it’s me, Hera!”

“Hera?” the vornskr gasped.

Before Hera could react to that, Chopper plummeted back to the ground, and they continued upwards.

“Chopper just talked,” Hera managed as Kanan grabbed her by the hand, pulling her up so she could grab onto some of the balloons. “The vornskr talked.”

His voice irritated, Kanan said, “You know, if you’re going to let every little thing bother you, this is going to be an even longer night!”

As they flew away from the party, Hera shot Kanan an unseen glare. The sooner she got away from this pain in the neck, the better. She had a bad feeling that wasn’t going to go as well as she hoped, though.

#swr #kanan jarrus #hera syndulla #star wars rebels #kanera #star wars #c1 10p #the princess and the frog au #the princess and the frog #swr au #111 followers celebration #it was dope. the end

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rev-plays-nikki · 3 years

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Alright here we go 🙃

I am extremely disappointed with the announcement of Heaven’s Favor, or Blessed Land, as it’s been officially named on this Nikki server, as our anniversary hell event. As many others have said, this hell event is beautiful, and I love the suits (although it is disappointing that none have dark skin tones and devs of our Nikki game and devs of the the Chinese server have not thought to add them after the fact), but for an anniversary of the game which many including myself feel is supposed to be the biggest celebration of the year, I was expecting a much larger and more expensive event, such as True Road or Four Gods.

I would have been thrilled with either of those events in truth, though as someone who loves Four Gods and has been wanting it for the last 3 and a half years, I was desperately hoping you would finally bring it to us. I was prepared to spend at least $300 and most likely more on diamonds, lucky bags, and other things, simply to show my support for the devs finally giving players what we have been asking for. The grandeur and expense of this event is puny compared with the other two options we could have been given. People complain sometimes when we get expensive events, yes, but usually that is a result of too many expensive events in a row. That issue does not exist this time, and the player base as a whole does want an occasional very expensive event, especially for an occasion as exciting and celebratory as the game’s anniversary. There will of course always be a few who complain no matter what, but in this case, players including myself are frustrated, angry, and tired of how we are treated by our server’s devs. This event announcement is yet another in a long line of things that have made it clear the only thing or server cares about is money grabbing.

Though this announcement has made me finally decide to stop spending on Love Nikki, it has not been the only thing I’ve been unhappy about. It has simply been ‘the straw that broke the camel’s back’ as they say. Our server’s devs have also made it clear they don’t care if we get the story in a way that makes sense either. We get the actual story chapters in order, and for the most part in a timely manner, yes, but there is a lot of the story and lore tidbits in other things like events (hell event as well as regular ones) and Dreamweaver stories. We do not get these in chronological order, which makes it confusing for everyone. I have to assume that our devs think we don’t care about the story, which I do think is largely true based on how many people tap through the story stages, but many of us still DO care about the story, so ignoring it and giving no thought to the order in which we receive story based events and Dreamweavers (both long-term “free” ones and ones that cost diamonds) is, frankly, a huge middle finger to that part of the player base.

The recharge lineup for this event is also extremely disappointing to say the least. And this can’t possibly be a surprise after the reaction from players when frost rose was brought back a while ago. We do NOT expect, and certainly do not WANT, return recharges for a hell event. Especially not for the hell event that is supposed to be our big anniversary celebration. Many were prepared to spend big for our anniversary, and now we will be spending nothing. This is yet another in a long history is giving us subpar recharge lineups that are either too expensive for a comparatively mediocre suit or contain too many expensive returning recharges for the same amount of money (or in a couple of instances, more, if someone had purchased parts of the suit in its original run and had to purchase the same again to complete it.) Personally I have purchased every recharge that became available since shortly after I started playing and have well surpassed V15 levels of spending, but I will be skipping these.

It is also shocking, as I noticed recently, that if a player does not claim their daily diamonds one day, the next day the number of daily diamonds left decreases regardless. This means if a player pays for a monthly recharge card, but cannot log in for one or more than one day for that amount of time, they simply lose some of the diamonds they paid for. While it is a “monthly” card, it promises a certain number of diamonds. It would deliver that number no matter what. Other games have systems in place to account for this. For instance, Time Princess, another dress up game, simply allows the player to collect their diamonds for whatever number of days they have not logged in. It works great and everyone stays happy and gets what they paid for. Maybe a similar system is not in place in Love Nikki and that’s fine. There are other ways to make sure people get what they paid for. The diamonds someone didn’t claim could be mailed to them for example, or daily diamonds could be made a permanent event like the daily login reward, and players could claim diamonds once a day as they choose. Another annoyance to players is that the permanent diamond pavilions still do not have a “confirm” pop up asking if players are sure they want to spend up to 1500 diamonds. This seems like such an easy fix and something players have wanted and asked for for some time.

Recharge suits should also come back for crafting. It seems as things have been going for the last four years that none come back for a long time, players complain about it and threaten to boycott, and a short time after, one relatively inexpensive suit will return in an attempt to satisfy players. Players then think this means recharge suits will return regularly, and are appeased for some time until the whole process repeats itself. This is very frustrating and tiresome. Every paid suit should ideally return for crafting, but my guess is that none of the highly expensive ones ever will. That is very sad to me, as I truly believe that every suit should eventually be made available to every player. I believe the same for the ranked suits, all of which I have, as well. It would be great if they came back but I understand for them why they will not far more than for recharge suits. As a paying player, the way I see it when I buy any suit is that I am paying to get it early, not that I am paying to get it at all. And I am more than happy to pay for that, and thrilled to know that every player will have the chance to get it eventually. I’m sure there are other paying players who don’t share my views, so I understand why devs are hesitant to bring back super expensive suits, but I do think they should return. Not only because on other servers recharge suits return for crafting far more frequently than on ours, but also because as time goes on the suits end up looking older and older and as such their value to players should decrease. The price of suits should go down when they return, not stay the same, and eventually every suit should be obtainable for any player.

Now, back to this hell event again, and more specifically Four Gods, because I’m selfish and I want it. Four Gods has been around for years. Those of us who have known about it from its original run on the original Chinese server have been expecting it to come to us ever since. Lore-wise, as I understand it, it was sort of an introduction to the main four Cloud families and their heads who feature prominently in some event and Dreamweaver stories, though not so much the main story yet. The event was sort of a prequel to Four Wars, and on the Chinese server Four Gods came first. I remember when we got the announcement for Four Wars for our server, and my utter shock. No one had expected or really been asking much for this hell and there were so many other, older events that would have made more sense to us at the time. This I think was the first truly egregious breach of lore order, at least that I can recall and that was so important to the story. When we got Four Wars most players had no idea who these characters were, so how were they supposed to care about them or the story? I think a large part of why many players don’t care about the story can be attributed to the devs not caring about it for us. If we were given events and story parts in chronological order so that it made sense, it would be much easier to follow and perhaps players wouldn’t give up on it so easily.

Since then however, years have passed and we still have not received Four Gods, or even been given the courtesy of being told why we haven’t gotten it. It hasn’t even been mentioned to us by our devs. Now there are rumors floating around the Love Nikki community about it that I think do no one any favors. There is the (I suspect true) rumor that the devs have for a long time intended to never give us this event. There is a rumor that there is some issue with converting the files from an older event to our newer server. There is a rumor that the reason we have not gotten Four Gods is that the devs do not want to give players the opportunity to get the 3000 free diamonds that originally came with the event. There are these and many other rumors, all of which highlight I think the most important issue with regards to our server, and that is communication.

Our server’s devs have always been, quite frankly, horrible at communicating with their player base. We get event announcements and teasers and all and that’s fine, those things are fun and exciting, but when it comes to larger issues in the game, like as an example darker skin tones and makeups that match them, and what the team is doing about it, we receive little to nothing. With this specific issue, and it’s not the only one, it seems players complain and complain and threaten to boycott as I’ve mentioned earlier, and the team eventually gives us the promise that they are working on it. These promises usually come far later than they should. And communication should be more than just promises once the team has finally decided to promise it. Communication should include the in-between phases. For instance, using this example, respond to players more quickly and tell us what the team is considering. We don’t always need promises, especially when the team can’t deliver what is wanted in a timely manner. We want to know what is going on. If the team is discussing something before deciding, let us know! It’s ok if nothing has been decided yet. We want to know what is going on, and if we know, we can give feedback and help the team in its discussions.

The game Time Princess again does this well. They offer frequent surveys that players can access the link to in-game, and they have almost weekly live chats in their Discord server where they answer questions, give hints and teasers about future events, give out extra redeem codes, and have players play fun trivia games with them regarding the game’s stories. If Love Nikki’s devs did something similar, it would greatly increase fan engagement with the game and the story, and show that our devs do care about us and what we want. After being more transparent with the community, and letting us know what’s going on, better decisions can be made, and better plans can be formed, instead of the team telling us nothing and letting us wonder and spread usually baseless rumors until we are given a promise. Even the promises are not always adequate either. With the dark skin tone makeups again, we were promised the team was working on it. And yes, we have received more dark skin makeups since, and that’s great, but it seems like we haven’t received that many recently, and when they come they are usually recipes that cost diamonds, and we only get a few makeups matching a few skin tones rather than one makeup for each.

My concern is that something similar will happen this time as well, and the team may well decide to continue not bringing us Four Gods without telling us a word about it or about why they have made such a decision. Supposedly now the team is talking about possibly bringing us Four Gods, but how do I know that? From the devs being open about their process and transparent with players about their plans and thinking? No, of course not. I know this because someone “close to Nikki'' told this to a well known player whom the rest of us know and trust as largely the only player who really knows what’s going on with the devs. And I doubt she even really does, but based on how little communication we get from the devs, it seems that way to the rest of us. And I of course do not mean this in any way to bash or throw negativity at Iri, I love her and she’s a wonderful person and member of our community! But it is a problem with our devs when someone telling one player something is the only way we can get some shred of an answer to our questions and desires.

Now, because I don’t want to be all negative and I don’t want to complain without offering solutions, here is a bullet point form list of things that could be changed in the game to greatly improve it and the players’ relationship with our devs. :)

- First and most importantly: communicate with players! Tell us what is going on with the team. Ask for feedback more often about more things than which door styles we prefer. Involve us in discussions! Transparency is paramount for any brand these days.

- Give us better “free” things. The Chinese server famously gets more free things like login rewards after server maintenance, etc.

- Add another recharge tier. The Chinese server has one more recharge tier than us ifI recall correctly, as well as their highest tier being more diamonds for less money. if that’s not possible for whatever reason, let us know and let us know why! And then make things less expensive. If that’s also impossible, give us better rewards. If that’s also impossible, at least let us know.

- Let people claim their daily dias even if they miss a day. Suggestions for this are already above in what I wrote.

- Add an “are you sure you want to do this?” button to all diamond pavs. Maybe with a checkmark for “don’t ask me again on this account.”

- Make sure darker skin tones and makeups come back in a timely manner. Maybe make a schedule for it and share that with players. Explain why it takes so long. Work on bringing poses for darker skin tones as well. If that’s not possible, explain to us why in detail.

- Give us four gods. Please and thank you. :) I promise plenty of us want it. If you can’t or won’t, tell us that, and tell us why. If you can’t tell us why due to a non disclosure agreement or something similar, tell us you aren’t able to tell us why. Whatever communication you can give us is far better than none.

I love and care about this game deeply. It has been a very important part of my gaming life through the past four years. I would not have bothered writing any of this if that weren’t true. I truly and genuinely hope that things change and get better in the future, but until then I will not be quitting, but I also will not be spending nearly as much time or money on it as I have in the past, which makes me sad. I wish everyone the best and I hope our devs will listen and improve their communication at the very least. Thank you.

#Love Nikki #lnduq #Love Nikki game #miracle nikki #love nikki dress up queen #TLDR; game bad. me not play as much or spend money until game better. also give us four gods.#anyway uhhhhhhh bye again got to post this everywhere else too but probably tomorrow so more people see

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kamaria-sweet-writes · 3 years

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Laiken (A Mer-May prompt) part 2

**Laiken**

True to his word Barnabus woke me before the guests started to arrive. While the nap was restful, I could’ve gone for a few more hours easily. “Come on, Sparrow, you need to get ready.” Ugh, I don’t want to be paraded around right now. “There’s a dress and some shoes in your closet that I bought you to wear for tonight. I’ll see you when you come downstairs.” I acknowledged him with a grunt and I rubbed at my eyes willing the tiredness away.

After a few more minutes of procrastinating I finally got out of bed and padded over to the closet to see what dress waited for me. It was in one of those garment bags but it was easy enough to get out of it. Plaid? That was my first thought after seeing the fabric but it wasn’t some normal plaid. I’d never seen these colors used in plaids back home.

I finished pulling the dress out of the bag and laid it on my bed to get a good look at it. Beautiful. I started seeing colors I hadn’t before. Thin lines of teal and charcoal worked through the whole garment. I pet the fabric before going back to retrieve the shoes.

Just a simple black wedge to match with the deep colors in the dress. The laid back nature of the shoes and dress told me the dinner was going to be lax, that I didn’t have much to worry about in the way of impressing people.

*knock knock*

2 sharp raps pulled me out of my thoughts. “Guests are starting to arrive, Muffin.” She huffed “You almost ready?” I didn’t respond choosing to instead get my body into the shower. It was either this or deal with my mothers 20 minute lecture on timeliness. I wasn’t in the mood for the latter.

10 minutes later I walked out of the shower feeling awake and ready to deal with whatever was going to be thrown at me. It might’ve also been because I spent the whole 10 minutes muttering to myself about how I was worth it and I needed to show the world how amazing I am. Another of Dr. Z’s tools to get me through anything and I’m ridiculously thankful for it now. Back when I learned it though, not so much.

I slid on my panties and latched my bra before turning around to grab the dress. Catching sight of myself in the mirror I cringed a bit before standing tall in remembrance of everything I’ve been through. My body isn’t tight nor unblemished. It’s littered with scars and stretch marks that tell a story all on their own.

Tearing my attention from the mirror I settled back into the task at hand. ‘Let’s get dressed and meet all the people that came to see you, Laik. They’re your family, no need to be afraid.’ I gave myself a bit of a silent pep talk before padding over to the bed where the dress still lay. Again, I found new details about the plaid that made it seem even more unique, more beautiful.

The dress fit like a dream accentuating my shape by highlighting my best assets and downplaying what I deemed my problem areas. Before, I’d never buy something like this for myself out of fear that I wouldn’t do it justice. But, looking at myself in this moment I’d love to have ten dresses just like it.

Still high on the feelings of giddiness I made my way out of the room and down the stairs. Chit chat could be heard as I approached what I was sure would be the kitchen but stopped the moment I walked through the door.

All eyes were on me and my heart was pounding behind my ribs. They’re staring. Why are they staring? Do I have something on my face? Did I put the dress on wrong? Do I look like someone’s stay puffed marshmallow girl?

All of those thoughts melted away when I heard his voice. “Forget what I just said. I accept.” His voice was like soft suede. It slid against my skin and wrapped around me making me want to sigh in contentment.

I searched the room for the source of that voice and was rewarded with the sight of a ridiculously gorgeous man standing next to Barnabus. I studied him starting at his boots up to his mismatched eyes that seemed to be boring into my own. I found myself unable to look away as he stood there all vast and commanding like that.

“Whatcha lookin’ at, Muffin?” I jumped, not ready for her to sneak up on me like that. She chuckled before grasping my hand and guiding me toward a group of women that she favored “I see you’ve noticed Taine.” She whispered as we approached the group of waiting women “He’s a catch and a good man if you’re wanting to know.” I didn’t miss the lilt in her voice as she spoke to me.

We came to a stop in front of the women we’d aimed for. I stood there awkwardly twisting the fabric of my dress in my hands. No one spoke for a moment until my mother introduced me. “This is my Laiken.” Her pride surged through her words. “Laiken, these are your aunts: Dina, Dedra and Darcy. They’ve been waiting on pins and needles for the chance to know you.”

I looked at their faces noticing how much they all looked alike. I could pick out bits and pieces of my face in theirs and that just made my heart soar. I don’t look like my father so drawing the similarities between us usually stopped at our brown eyes and cocoa colored skin. Seeing these women though told me what I could expect as I got older and I must say, the future is looking bright if this is any clue as to what I’d look like.

My phone buzzed in my pocket drawing my attention. Pulling it out I noticed the photo flashing across the screen. A bear. I forgot to call him and now I’m about to hear about how I worried him to death. I let it go to voicemail with a reminder to call him after dinner but no sooner did the vibrations stop did it start again. I guess I have to deal with this now.

“Hi Daddy, sorry I didn’t call you earlier.” The sharp intake of breath on the other end of the line told me all I needed to know. I quickly excused myself and made my way onto the deck to take the call in a more private place. Here we go.

**Taine**

There are for more pressing issues at hand but for some reason Barnabus requested me to be at his daughters homecoming. I finished up my work on the boats before heading home to get dressed for the shindig. All I know about her is that she’s his little sparrow, he’d do anything for her and apparently she could likely be the first Chieftess our clan has ever had.

Big shoes to fill after someone like Barnabus. I don’t envy her. Being the first anything is wrought with hardship and without the others knowing her she will face her own fair share of persecution.

Just a meet and greet right? So not much thought needed to go into this outfit. I went with a nice fitted grey t-shirt and some jeans considering it sounded pretty lax to begin with. Showered, groomed and dressed I made my way over to the cottage letting myself in like I always do.

The environment was a little tense as Danae waited at the base of the stairs staring up them like she was waiting for someone to ascend them. “Everything ok?” She smiled nodding her head at the same time before turning her gaze back up the stairway. I made my way over to Barnabus leaving his mate alone to do whatever she was doing.

“She’s waiting for, Sparrow.” Barnabus spoke “Guests are here and she hasn’t made an appearance yet, makes Danae nervous.” His gaze shifted from me to his mate “Come now, Love. Sparrow will make her way down momentarily. No need to wait there and scare her.” She huffed before leaving her perch and making her way to waiting guests.

It seemed like most of the people in attendance were actual family members leaving me befuddled as to why I was invited at all. “Barnabus, why am I here? This is a family affair.” He huffed out a breath but didn’t answer me “Come on.” He stroked his chin before his soulful eyes found mine. He’s about to ask me to do something. Shit.

“Laiken is a strong, beautiful woman that needs a man to compliment that.” Are you fucking kidding me? “I trust you above anyone else to be that man for her. I want you to court my daughter.”

His smile punctuated the conversation like it was just some small thing. Courting leads to dating and dating leads to mating. Mating is for life. This isn’t a small thing, it’s huge and I don’t want the responsibility. “No” my word came out just the way I wanted to. Strong and steadfast leaving no room for error or miscommunication “I’m not interested. Try Denton or Merrick, they’re good men.” His face fell but I couldn’t let that sway me.

He didn’t bring it up again. Instead we spoke of plans to fortify our borders and put more thought into how to go about monitoring the other selkies that found work here. It wasn’t unlawful for them to do so but it was discouraged outside of the ferries shuttling people back and forth from the mainland.

The room grew quiet and I soon understood why. In the doorway stood the most beautiful woman I’d ever laid eyes on. “My sparrow” Barnabus whispered affectionately.

This was his Sparrow? There’s no way I would pass her on to anyone else. “Forget what I just said, Barnabus. I accept.” If the clap on my back was any indication of his feelings I’d say I just made the Chieftain a very happy Selkie. “We will hammer out the details soon.” With that I went about looking over the woman that would soon be mine.

I watched her eyes traverse my body slowly from bottom to top before her eyes locked with mine. Gone was the breath in my lungs as a smile tore across her features lighting her whole face up. Yeah, that’s all mine. Laying claim right here, right now before any of the other males even get a chance to.

She jumped when Danae whispered in her ear making the cutest squeak at the same time. I stood there waiting for more of her attention but she was whisked away to start mingling with the people that came here to see her. I kept a strict eye on her movements as she flitted person to person.

Turning my back but for a moment I’d lost her. One second she was talking to the Leery sisters and the next it seemed like she disappeared. “She’s outside on the phone.” Barnabus soothed my already frazzled nerves easily “Give her some time before heading that way. You know, I felt the same way when I met her mother. Fate is crazy like that hmmm?” He moved away from me leaving me with my thoughts. Yeah, fate was crazy alright but for now I’m following her headfirst when it comes to Laiken.

#exophilia creators #mermay2021 #selkie boyfriend #my writing #dont steal my shit #part2

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cockasinthebird · 3 years

Text

Dear anon,

Here’s the Second Part to the request you made about Billy watching Steve masturbate! I would link the first part but then this post wont show up in the tag because that’s how it works, apparently

I think this might be one of my favourite things I’ve written, and yes I know I say that quite often, but there’s nothing wrong in enjoying your own stuff!!!

And I hope that you all enjoy it just the same~

The second time, he sits in a very expensive chair, specifically the one Mr Harrington occupies whenever he’s actually home and dealing with work from his office, the room covered in mahogany furniture and shiny leather seats.

He spins around a few times, taking in the grand paintings on the walls, none of them of the family whose house this is, the glamorous curtains, the small and tasteful plants, and the head of a stag hanging in all its grandiose above the fireplace. Expensive, fancy, ostentatious. A showroom of importance and wealth.

Any one piece of furniture in this room costs more than Billy’s own house, and there is nothing Billy loathes more than rich assholes that think they can buy the world. Which just makes him defiling the heir to this fortune all the more fun for him.

The leather creaks underneath him as he stops spinning. From atop the desk he brings a glass of scotch to his lips, and gives it none of the respect Mr Harrington would believe it to be deserving of; simply bottoms out like it’s a shot of vodka. He licks his lips clean and swallows a few extra times to really enjoy his stealing of the oldest bottle in the liquor cabinet.

Then finally he stands up, slams the glass down with almost too much force on the dark wood, and walks around the desk to sit down in another leather chair, this one facing a couch on where Steve lies naked.

“Enjoying yourself, daddy?” he asks with a smile that runs from one ear to the other, on the verge of cracking his sexy facade.

And Billy laughs heartily at it, throws his head back a bit. “Oh don’t start on that, pretty boy! I am not ready to explore either of our daddy issues just yet.”

Steve can’t help the chuckle that escapes him, then settles it into something more smooth and delicate, teasingly so, as he runs a hand down his side, from chest to hip where it rests. He’s lying on his side, propped up on one elbow, his front turned fully toward where Billy admires the view - still dressed from head to toe - Steve’s cock hard from attention alone, the flushed head resting against the leather. And he waits patiently for whatever Billy has in mind.

When Steve had come home today, Billy had done the whole Marco-Polo charade till Steve found him pouring a drink from the glass bar behind the large desk. He hadn’t bothered complaining or asking any questions about why Billy is in his father’s office, simply sat down when commanded, and stripped without any hesitation when told.

Now they’re looking at one another in silence. Billy spreads his legs as wide as the armrests will allow, and runs his hand rough up and down his girthy cock trapped inside denim still, and Steve’s dark and lustful gaze follows the movement attentively.

“You look amazing like this, Stevie,” Billy mutters, voice thick and salacious as he touches himself through too many layers. “I wanna watch you.”

Steve hums pleasantly and slowly starts slipping the hand on his hip down toward his full erection.

“You said last time you love watching me…” Fingertips graze against his cock, teasing and gentle and slight. “You ever watch me jerk off in private?”

Billy swallows hard, contemplating whether he should tell the truth or if that would be too intrusive to admit. But Steve has yet to get upset at Billy for any of his deviant behaviour. “Yeah, a few times.”

And for the truth he’s rewarded with Steve wrapping his fingers around himself, slowly moving up and down, squeezing around the head that leaks into his hand.

“Ah-h, good,” Steve’s voice starting to waver as he strokes his dick; wetting it with his own pre. “I think about you a lot when I masturbate, fuck, thinking about you at all gets me hard.”

Billy blinks slowly, wanting to meet Steve’s gaze but finds it impossible to look away from how Steve’s hand moves a bit faster. He removes his own hand from the bulge in his jeans and grips the armrests of the chair.

“Do you ever finger yourself when you think of me?”

Steve licks his lips at that, and smiles with certain intent, although Billy doesn’t notice as he’s mesmerised as always by the way Steve touches his own throbbing prick.

“Not always, but whenever I do finger myself, I only think of you.”

“Show me,” Billy demands without hesitation - softly, but with no hint of ‘if you want to.’

But Steve wants to. His breath hitches at the stern tone to Billy’s words, the restraint in his movement clear as he slows down and eases his grip.

“You want me to finger myself in front of you, here, in my father’s office, on his expensive couch?” Steve asks, incredulously, feigning reluctance, yet doesn’t stop the now lazy caress of his lengthy cock, keeps smiling, stays posing on his side.

Billy sits silent, doesn’t respond right away, instead he pulls up a small, inconspicuous, clear plastic bottle from the pocket of his shirt, and tosses it onto the couch.

“Yes.”

Steve looks at it; there’s no labels or text or anything, really the most boring and ordinary little container, but there is no doubt in his mind what it is.

“How do you want me?” he asks and finally meets with Billy’s eyes, a fire there burning hotter than the sun could ever dream of.

“However you do it when you’re alone - when I’m not here to fuck you into your mattress. Show me just how badly you want my thick cock.”

And as is often done in situations where words aren’t needed anymore, Steve simply bites his lip, keeps the bottle firm in his grasp, and gets up on his knees. He turns around on the couch, angling his perfect ass towards where Billy sits patiently like a statue, then bends forward; arching his back and spreading himself before his audience to grant a good look of everything. His leaking prick hanging between his legs, hole exposed fully.

“Fuck, Steve…” Billy nearly gasps at the view - didn’t expect to be this affected by it as he shuffles around in his seat, almost overwhelmed by the urge to just shove his tongue through Steve’s rim and eat him out till he’s cumming and crying. Billy adjusts the taut fabric of his jeans before settling in his place.

The cap of the bottle pops off loudly, lube drips onto Steve’s fingers, and with a careful motion, as to not waste a single drop, he brings his hand behind himself. He runs three digits flat and slick over his entrance, getting himself proper wet, staring straight at how attentively Billy watches, the self control damn impressive as those bluest of eyes twitch at the sight of Steve slipping in his middle finger.

Steve coos and keens, perhaps a bit excessive, perhaps egged on by the way Billy’s knuckles turn white as he strangles the leather armrests. He holds one hand on the back of the couch to keep himself steady as he quickly finds an all too pleasant rhythm that leaves him craving more.

Billy hasn’t been this turned on, this painfully erect, since the first time he saw someone play with themselves, back when he was 13 and stole a porn tape from a thrift store in Cali. He still has it hidden away, mostly for sentimental reasons now, because nothing can compare to watching Steve finger himself open, moaning and dripping worse when he adds a second finger.

“Ah-h, mmh- Billy,” Steve teases with his name on that lascivious tongue.

And every sound that escapes makes Billy’s lust boil hotter, bubbling under his skin, the urge to touch like a strong current pulling him under. Touch himself, touch Steve.

It takes all of his strength not to stand up, close the short distance between them and drive in two fingers past that gorgeous clenching ring of muscle, opening up Steve faster so that Billy can fuck him hard into the leather of daddy’s dear couch, press his face against the cushions and have him cumming in less than a minute.

Steve pushes in a third finger, thighs trembling as he moans out, “Shit, oh-” with an overt shudder running through him as he hits just the right spot.

“Feel good, baby?” Billy asks softly, voice husky and smooth, as he unbuttons his shirt slowly.

“S-so good, ah-” Steve’s prick leaks onto the seat, between his knees, fingers pumping fervently in and out leaves him writhing as he abandons any sense of rhythm, and Billy recognizes the way he’s calling out, cursing, close to mumbling his words.

Knows that it won’t be too long now.

“Fuck, Billy! Billy- Billy-”

“Yeah?” Billy groans out, pleased with how erotic his name can sound when it comes from such a pretty mouth.

“I’m- I’m close.” Fingers go as deep as they can, as quick as they can, it’s almost kinda impressive how rapidly he moves those digits, and it all goes to show that this might be something he does more frequently than originally suggested.

Billy unbuckles his belt, flicks free the button of his jeans, and lets the zipper run loose, immediately bringing some sense of relief to his own pent-up, aching cock. He then removes his hands again, one elbow on the armrest, chin in hand as he continues to simply leer at how Steve fingers himself, how his brows are pulled high and tight, how his eyes can barely stay open as they fight the urge to roll back.

“Think you can cum untouched like this?” he asks, impatience apparent in his rumbling tone.

“N-no, fuck, ah-h-” Steve cries and bucks his hips onto his fingers.

“Hmm…” Billy hums like he’s dissatisfied with that response. “I’ve seen you do it before.”

“Mmhn, ahh, yes, yes- in your ha-ands, not- not on my own,” Steve whines and meets Billy’s gaze with all too sincere eyes.

And fuck if that doesn’t make Billy’s full erection kick and leak in its entrapment - to know that he can make King Steve cum on his fingers or dick alone is empowering, strokes his ego just right.

“Fuck, Stevie, baby,” Billy growls with exposed teeth all predatory and lecherous. "Touch yourself. Cum for me, all over daddy's expensive leather couch."

Steve doesn't waste time before he brings his other hand to his weeping prick, and as he wraps his fingers around it to eagerly jerk himself, Billy grunts lightly as his own cock twitches with overwhelming jealousy.

It really doesn't take more than a few strokes till Steve buries his face against the backrest, crying out loud as he moves his fingers hard and precise, back arching in the most beautiful curve, spilling all over the dark seat as he pumps himself dry of every drop, thighs visibly tensing and quivering.

“Gorgeous,” Billy breathes out, convinced that his grip on the armrests will soon tear the leather apart, his underwear completely soaked with pre.

Steve’s arms fall till his palms rest against the leather seat, his entire being pulsating and shivering with every heavy breath, sounding like he just ran a marathon. But as he moves to change his position, perhaps get more comfortable, Billy intervenes-

“Didn’t say you could move,” there’s barely a hint of play to his tone, “Stay just like that for me.”

So Steve does just that - shuffles around a bit on his knees to kneel better, swallows thickly, and hangs his head low to look at Billy from between his legs.

Billy in turn finally pulls his pained cock free with a loud and telling grunt of relief, the air almost sharp in its coldness, but it’s soothed by his firm hand running up and down his slick erection. Already he knows that this won’t last nearly as long as he wants it to; feels it in the way the coil twists pliantly, thighs and abs flexing at his every move.

“Mmh- shit, arrh, baby I- I want you to show me- fuck- spread your ass out for me.”

And Steve obeys all too readily, moving his hands back to grab a full cheek in both to spread them as far apart as he can, exposing his fluttering hole, puffy and well loved.

The sight of it makes Billy’s hips buck off of his seat, an interrupting moan punches the air out of his lungs, his cock spurting pre something horribly, the sounds of his jerking motion obscene and loud and overwhelming as he grips himself harder- tight like how Steve’s ass would feel right now, wrapped around him, sucking him in, milking him dry, right here in his father’s office, soiling the leather, defiling the high and mighty importance with moans of the heir’s hole getting ravished-

Just the mere thought of what Billy might get to do with Steve in every single room of this house, all goddamn 12 of them, has him cumming in near record time - a loud and unexpected orgasm that crashes through him as he lifts up and into his hand, cursing loudly towards the ceiling, cum shooting all the way up his chest to clash with the sweaty tan skin, painting him in white, pumping till he’s sore and lets his cock go with a hiss.

Suddenly so exhausted he could probably fall asleep right here, eyes closed and struggling to catch his breath as he slumps in the chair. That is until hands land on both his knees, squeezing gently and caressing him, and when he opens his eyes to look down there’s Steve, kneeling between Billy’s legs, a slight smile and the most adoring gaze, a glorious vision that shoots straight through Billy’s heart and overstimulated cock simultaneously.

Before Billy gets to make the next move, Steve crawls closer, brings out his tongue to run it hot and flat over Billy’s flaccid dick, pulling forth a pained, “shit, ah-h!” then continues with soft kisses up his stomach, across his abs, till he reaches where cum has been splashed across Billy’s pecks. And under the watchful stare of blue skies, Steve lets out his tongue once more, licks a stripe through the white pool and swallows with an almost delighted little hum.

A whole show that Billy will play over and over in his head those few nights Steve isn’t around.

And Steve finishes his climb straddling Billy’s thighs, kissing him deeply and passionately, as if he’s not satiated quiet yet, mixing the taste of them with dancing tongues, sweet and salty and strong still with an aftertaste of scotch.

#Harringrove #My Writing #lemon #part 2 of that one request I responded to a few days ago #2.4k words #I should start tagging how many words #so that people know how long it is before clicking #Read more

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miamlfy · 3 years

Text

Beautiful

A/N: Another fic completed, im quite proud of myself. I’ve never written for Neville so I hope I did okay. Although I said I wouldn't write about disordered eating or body image, this was requested and I thought I’d write it regardless. As a person who struggles with my body image, I tried writing this how I “deal with it”. Please note, this will be my only time writing something like this, please don't request anything else like this.

Pairing: Neville Longbottom x Fem! Reader

Summary: Dealing with body image issues, Neville takes notice and tries to comfort you.

Warnings: DO NOT READ IF YOU GET TRIGGERED OVER DISORDERED EATING! This fic deals with sensitive topics. If you feel like you relate to anything mention, please seek help. I’m always here if you want to talk and can provide you with resources.

Word Count: 1,1k

Masterlist

Enjoy!

(Not my gif, credit to whoever made it)

You glared at yourself in the mirror, the person in front of you looking disgusting. You grabbed the excess skin on your stomach, every night wishing it would go away and being greatly disappointed in the morning.

You finished dressing yourself, thankful no one else was present in the dorm. You grabbed the sweater that you knew would fit oversized on your body and exited the room. Neville was already waiting for you in the common room, the two of you planned a date to Hogsmeade with your other friends.

“Good morning, darling. Looking beautiful as ever.” Your boyfriend said, placing a soft kiss on your temple. You tried not to scoff at his words and instead smiled at him. His words only coming off as a lie to you.

“Is everyone ready?” You asked him, looking around the common room and not spotting any of your friends.

“They’re all eating breakfast, I told them I’d wait for you and then join them.” You nodded and took his hand as he lead you to the great hall.

On your way there you kept telling yourself to resist the food. You weren’t hungry and that you were still full from last nights dinner.

Sitting down, you looked over to see Hermione and Ginny eating and stuffing their petite figures with food. Oh how you wished you could be like them and not worry about food and how your body looks.

Neville offered making a plate for you but you declined stating you weren’t hungry.

“Are you sure? It’s going to be a long day and we probably won’t eat till past noon.” He had a good point to eat but again, you declined.

“I’m really not hungry, I’ll eat later.” You said. He looked at you worriedly but shrugged it off and proceeded to eat his breakfast.

You felt your stomach grumble but ignored it. You poured yourself a glass of water and had that for breakfast.

The first shop to enter was Honeydukes. You glared at all the sweets, they looked so tempting to buy and eat. You looked at a few that were being displayed, you stared at it for a bit and decided to grab a box. It’ll be a reward treat, you told yourself.

You payed for your sweets with the others and existed that dreadful shop. You entered a few more shops and made a quick stop at a bench to look over at the things you bought.

Harry and Ron were busy discussing what they were going to do with their pranks gadgets, Ginny occasionally butting in and giving them ideas. Hermione and Neville were opening up their sweets and letting their mouths devour the delicacies.

Hermione offered you one of hers, ”Here, you must be starving and you need something in your stomach.” She said. She wasn’t wrong, you were starving but you declined once again.

“No thanks ‘Mione, I’m fine.” You said, trying to convince her. She nodded and ate it herself.

You sighed as you went into the Three Broomsticks, the smell of butterbeer entering your nostrils. The boys went to order the drinks while you and the girls went to find a table in a secluded area.

“It’s so packed in here.” Ginny groaned. “Don’t people have anything else to do.”

You laughed at her annoyance, “They’re enjoying their Saturday, just like us.”

Her annoyance was immediately replaced with this delight once her butter beer was placed in front of her.

“Enjoy ladies.” Neville said, as he sat down next to you and began drinking his. You stared at yours for a bit, you swiped your finger on the whipped cream. Instead of placing said finger in your mouth, you wiped it on a napkin.

“Are you not going to drink yours?” Neville asked taking you out of your trance. You nodded and began drinking it, feeling it enter your empty stomach. Drinking half it wouldn’t hurt you.

Your day at Hogsmeade was completed once everyone was growing tired of walking and craving dinner. You knew you had to eat something, or else everyone would know you were purposely not eating.

Dropping everything in your dorm, you headed back down to the Great Hall. Others were already eating the delicious food made by the house elves. Everything looked so good to you and your stomach grumbled once again, telling you that it needed food.

However, you placed the smallest things onto your plate. It varied with a few vegetables and little bit of chicken. You also grabbed a bread roll but instead of eating, you picked at it. You were too busy picking at your food to notice Neville staring at you with worry in his eyes.

Neville was beyond concerned to see you in a such a state, he knew exactly why you weren’t eating. It wouldn’t be the first time he noticed you having troubles with food and your body image.

To be honest, he couldn’t understand why. You were extremely beautiful and had no idea why you were so insecure. He loved every bit of you and it saddened him that you couldn’t love yourself for who you were.

Once dinner ended, he sat you down in the common room away from everyone. He grabbed your hands as he held a worry expression. You already knew where this was going.

“Is everything okay, love?” He asked, you looked down disappointed in yourself for not hiding your insecurities better.

“You barely eaten anything today or just in general for the past few weeks. What’s going on?”

Your eyes filled with tears as you explained everything to him. You told him exactly how you felt, feeling gross with your body and how you take his compliments as pure lies. Neville held you close as you spoke to him, listening to every word you said.

“Well honey, that’s just bullshit.” He said bluntly, you were slightly shocked by his choice of words.

“I love you for who you are. You are gorgeous and you are the most beautiful girl I laid my eyes on. However your body looks doesn’t matter to me and shouldn’t matter to anyone.” He paused and held you closer.

“Not eating will only hurt you more and I hate seeing you hurt. If you feel that you need to lose weight, then I can help you do it in a healthy way. I love you, Y/n. And I want to help you learn to love yourself and I’ll support you every step of the way.”

You cried at his words, this time you knew he was being honest. You were glad you had him and he had you. You felt him start to play with your hair, an attempt to try to calm you down. You smiled at him. You felt lucky to have him.

#neville longbottom x reader #neville longbottom x you #neville longbottom #harry potter imagine #harry potter x reader #Harry Potter #hp one shot

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acnelli · 3 years

Text

A Favourite

My entry for Ron’s Chessboard Fest 2021.

Pairing: Ron/Hermione

Rating: T

Summary: Ron discovers a group chat that is discussing just how handsome he actually is.

Thanks to TheUltimateUndesirable for organising the Fest.

This prompt had been submitted by @accio-broom who also happened to be the beta for this story. Your help and suggestions are always so much appreciated!

@accio-broom got inspired by this post by @headcanonsandmore. So, thank you for the lovely idea! I wanted to write this ever since I saw this post and prompt 39 fit the bill perfectly.

You can also read this story on AO3 & FFN.

“Where are you guys meeting tonight?” Hermione asked as she and Harry cleared the table while Ron and Ginny set up the cleaning charms.

“George’s place this time,” Ron answered and swooped up some foam of the soapy dishwater to smear it across Hermione’s cheek.

Sometime after the war, the Weasley siblings established the tradition to meet up once a month. Just the six of them going out for a pint or simply getting pissed at one of their places. This resulted in another kind of meet up, consisting of the Weasley siblings’ significant others. Tonight, they would play a French card game which Fleur insisted on being a lot of fun. The rest of them simply agreed because most of the time, they ended up just talking and drinking anyway.

Playfully swatting Ron’s hand away, Hermione cleaned her face with a tea towel, placing it neatly back on the designated hook. Kreacher liked the kitchen to be spotless, and letting them cook for themselves every now and then at all had already been a huge compromise from Kreacher’s side. So, they always made sure to clean up after themselves; otherwise, Kreacher would immediately take over all kitchen duties again.

Ginny sat down on Harry’s lap when all the plates and cutlery were taken care of and gave him a soft kiss on the lips. She lifted Harry’s left arm to check the time on the gold watch the Weasley’s gifted him years ago.

“Ron, we should’ve left already.”

“Gin, you know every single Weasley is a notorious latecomer. Except for Percy, maybe. George will probably be not even out of the shower when we arrive,” Ron reasoned as he rummaged through the fridge for the sixpack of Muggle beer he bought to bring to George, “or taking a shite.”

While Ginny and Harry snickered, nodding their heads in agreement, Hermione just sighed and rolled her eyes. At some point, she gave up berating Ron about his foul mouth. It was a lost cause, and while she would never admit it out loud, she would definitely miss it if he suddenly stopped cursing. Mainly because over the years, Hermione gathered some exclusive knowledge about what to do for Ron to bring forth a particular choice of swear words.

Ron hardly censored himself, except when Teddy, Victoire and Molly were in the room. Not only would Mrs Weasley twist Ron’s ear off, Hermione definitely drew the line when children were present. She could’ve also lived without the image of George sitting on the toilet.

They heard the fireplace roar to life, and a few moments later, Audrey came into the kitchen, dressed in grey tracksuit bottoms, white trainers and an oversized blue shirt that sure enough belonged to Percy. Her outfit clashed with the fancy bottle of wine she held in her left hand.

Hermione looked at Ron, who she had to talk out of wearing his trackies tonight, and into a pair of nicely fitting jeans instead, along with one of his old Cannon shirts. He lifted an eyebrow at her when he saw Audrey’s casual clothes, but Hermione ignored it.

Audrey sat down with a heavy sigh. “I knew I’m too early. Why am I dating someone so over-punctual?”

“You’re not because Gin and I are leaving now.” Ron laughed as he gave Audrey a quick hug before kissing Hermione and wishing them a fun night. “Don’t do what I wouldn’t do.”

“I think we’re fine then,” Harry commented from behind Ron, where Ginny gave him a peck on the cheek before heading out of the kitchen.

As Ron turned around, Hermione pinched his arse, not ashamed to cop a feel as she gave him an innocent smile, and he rewarded her with his trademark lopsided grin. “Is this why you wanted me to wear these tight jeans? So, you could properly feel me up?” He asked as he leaned down to give Hermione another kiss.

“ROOON!” Ginny cried from the living room before he could properly snog his girlfriend again. He sighed and gave her a quick peck on the mouth instead.

“Actually, I wanted you to wear them so I can ogle you from behind.” She whispered before he went out of earshot. Ron didn’t turn around, but he gave his hips an extra swing before vanishing out of the kitchen.

“God, that was gross,” Audrey commented but winked at Hermione anyway, “How can you stand that every day, Harry?”

Harry was just about to give her an answer when they heard several people arriving via floo, and he settled for just rolling his eyes instead.

Accompanied by a cloud of some very nice smelling perfume, Fleur glided into the kitchen and right behind her appeared a tall, blonde man Hermione and Harry never met before. This had to be Charlie’s new boyfriend. Ron and Ginny met him last Sunday over at the Burrow when both Harry and Hermione stayed at home since they still had been recovering from a rather nasty case of the flu.

Fleur took Finn –as he introduced himself in a thick Swedish accent– directly with her from the Burrow where she put Victoire to bed and where Molly and Arthur happily watched over their first grandchild. Harry was secretly happy to finally have another guy in their round again. Not that he minded the company of Hermione, Fleur, Angelina and Audrey. Actually, he always enjoyed their monthly gatherings, but it was nice to not be the only rooster in the yard.

“I’m here, I’m here! I just wanted to stop by the store to grab some more Butterbeer.” Angelina said and put the bottles on the kitchen table. As always, they had a good variety of booze to choose from; Angelina’s Butterbeer, wine from both Fleur and Audrey, the Firewhiskey Harry bought yesterday, and some Cider Hermione picked up from her way home from work. It was way too much already, of course, but that didn’t stop Kreacher from making so much elf wine that they’ll probably never had to buy alcohol ever again.

As Hermione and Harry added some glasses and snacks, Audrey observed the table with a huge smile on her face. She clapped her hands in childish glee, grabbed a bottle of wine and started to fill Hermione’s wine glass.

“Fleur, explain that card game to us.”

*****

Ron was annoyed.

Because his dear brother was utter rubbish at calculating what would be the appropriate amount of booze for six people, they ran out of beer and whiskey after not even two hours. Due to his bad luck at rock paper scissors, he ended up going back to Grimmauld Place to get them some more beer and one or two bottles of Kreacher’s wine.

The moment he walked through the fireplace, loud shrieks and booming laughter sounded over from the kitchen. Ron planned to just quickly walk into the kitchen, taking what they needed out of the fridge and go back to George’s place. He stopped in his tracks as the conversation filtered through to the living room because he didn’t want his presence to be known just yet.

“…okay, okay, Hermione. Don’t look at me like that. I complimented your choice in men. Ron is a stilig karl.” Finn said, his booming voice carrying easily over to the living room. Ron didn’t know what stilig karl meant, but from what context he was able to overhear, Finn might’ve just said something nice about him.

As silently as possible, he stepped out into the hallway where he could hear the conversation better but would remain undetected by the occupants of the kitchen.

“I personally like his jawline, especially when he lets it go stubbly. It’s…,” Audrey snipped her fingers, “very tempting to touch sometimes. Remember Sunday afternoon after lunch? I kind of had to restrict myself from starring at his jaw when he listened to the Cannons game on the radio. Such determination.”

Ron was sure he was glowing in the dark as he felt the blush creeping up his neck, his face no doubt looking like a tomato. He expected many things, but he certainly didn’t expect to run into this kind of conversation.

“What does Percy have to say about you lusting over his brother?” Hermione asked, and Ron had to stop himself from bursting out into a laugh because he could practically see her narrowing her eyes.

“Oh, Hermione, don’t be such a prude. There is nothing wrong with admiring somebody else than your own partner. It eez only natural.”

Ron could not hear Hermione clear enough, but he thought he could hear her muttering something like ‘I’m not a prude.’

“Does somebody else has a favourite part of Ron they want to elaborate on? Or can we finally start the next round of cards?” Again, the red-head tried his hardest not to laugh when everyone just ignored Hermione’s sarcasm and, indeed, continued elaborating on the topic.

“His arse!” Angelina offered. From the way she was dragging the ‘s’ a little, he could tell she was already slightly tipsy. “Ron has a very nice bum. Do you guys train your arses in these weekly training sessions at work, Harry?”

Of course, this brought forth another wave of hysterical laughter, which only intensified when Finn told Harry to keep him in mind for these arse workouts. “Maybe I’ll learn something.”

When Angelina recovered from her giggling fit, she declared to Harry she too wants to sign up for that training then added, “But Ron had a nice arse before Auror training anyway.”

“And when did you notice that may I ask?”

“Hermione, it’s almost impossible to play Quidditch and not have a nice arse. Sitting on a broom for hours is no picnic for those muscles,” Angelina answered, unfazed by Hermione’s haughty undertone while Audrey let out something between a snort and laugh, resulting in a rather violent coughing fit.

“Don’t you agree, Hermione?” Angie asked innocently as she clapped the still coughing Audrey on the back.

All the ruckus must have summoned Crooshanks because the ginger cat ran towards Ron. He quickly picked him up and started to scratch him behind the ear, successfully stopping him from running inside the kitchen and surely disrupting the conversation inside. And a shame this would be, considering Ron really wanted to hear his girlfriend’s answer.

“I certainly agree,” Hermione said calmly, “Ron hated his hand-me-down jeans, but I always had been very fond of them. Especially, their tendency to hug him in all the right places.”

So much for these new tight jeans, she talked him into buying, Ron thought, not being able to stop the huge grin splitting his face. Running into this conversation certainly was a pleasant coincidence.

Apparently, the others didn’t expect Hermione to answer so smoothly because a chorus of approving whistles startled Crookshanks, and Ron almost dropped him when the cat clawed at his arm.

“So, you guys are mostly fond of his arse,” Finn mused, taking a quick swig of his beer, “which is understandable but did you ever notice his shoulders? Ron has the best kind of build; slim waist and broad shoulders without looking burly. Please don’t tell Charlie I said that.”

“Tall and handsome, just like my Bill,” Fleur agreed, Hermione giving an annoyed groan that did nothing to stop the French witch from elaborating, “but I say, Ron’s arms and hands are ze best thing about him. Of course, I hate he got zis scars in ze first place, but I think zey accentuate his arms and big hands rather nicely.”

“Well, Fleur. That surprises no one, I think.” Harry said, joining the conversation for the first time since Ron listened in.

“Don’t even encourage this, Harry,” Hermione whined, “How could find it not weird we lust over your best friend?”

Ron knew full well that Harry would tease Hermione, and probably him too, forever about this, so Harry’s next words weren’t too surprising.

“Well, actually…if I would play for the other team,” Harry obviously made a point to make a meaningful pause here, and Ron really, really wished he could see Hermione’s face right now, “…I mean, if we approach this in a logical manner…I have a thing for red-heads after all.”

The next outburst of laughter, surely about Hermione’s expression, sent Crookshanks in a frenzy for real now, and the bloody cat let out a loud wail and wriggled out of Ron’s arms, scratching the side of Ron’s neck before jumping down over his shoulder.

If not for Crookshanks loud entrance into the kitchen (why he would bolt towards the noise that scared him was beyond Ron’s understanding), Ron’s colourful cursing tipped off the others about his presence.

Well aware he had been caught, Ron followed Hermione’s cat into the kitchen, red-eared and shyly waving at everyone. “Hello…”

Before he could offer some kind of explanation, a furiously blushing Hermione jumped up from her seat, bolted towards Ron and without another word, took his hand and dragged him off towards the stairs. “Make sure to take good care of this new scratch on his neck, Hermione!” Audrey shouted after them, accompanied by the other’s laughter.

With a loud bang, their bedroom door shut, and Hermione immediately pressed Ron against it, showering him with kisses and roaming hands. Slightly puzzled but equally enthusiastic, Ron took Hermione’s face into his hands, deepening the kiss and enjoying the feeling of her body pressed up against his. As they finally came up for air, Hermione nudged him towards their bed, but Ron didn’t move from his place by the door.

“Hermione, you know they just said that to take the mickey, right?” Ron grinned at her and gave her a wink, “Riling you up is apparently not just my favourite past time.”

“You think they only said that to rile me up?” Hermione raised a questioning eyebrow as she took his hand and resumed her mission to get him into the direction of the bed. “

This time he complied, Hermione lying down onto the soft mattress and tugging on Ron’s belt, making him fall right on top of her. “Of course, you would think that,” Hermione whispered.

“Think what?”

“That the others just said that to rile me up.” Hermione answered, her hands slowly roaming up and down Ron’s back, “I don’t get possessive over nothing, you know.”

“If…you…say…so,” Ron murmured between the kisses he placed on her neck. He paused his trail towards that special place behind Hermione’s ear to look at her with an awfully smug smile. “I did not plan to wear them again, but I’ll gladly dig those old jeans out of the wardrobe. You know, for the sake of making you happy…and also probably Angelina.”

“Shut up and charm the door!” she said as Hermione let her hands wander over his jeans-clad arse, silently marvelling about its firmness.

As her hands and mouth wandered over his shoulders, his arms and his scars, and as his hands cupped her face and his blue eyes looked down at her with an expression that always spoke directly to her heart, she decided that every part of Ron was her favourite part.

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cinephilediary · 3 years

Text

A Memory

by: Kila Gallo

Sitting on a soft minimalist chair with a backrest, sipping on an iced white mocha-caramel coffee with some tiramisu on the side of the table, tied my long soft ash-brown-balayage hair in a clean bun with some baby hair strands on the side. Instead of the country side music, I prefer to listen and notice the loud breeze outside, while people come and go as they receive their cup of coffee. I am just here, silently typing on my keyboard, specs on, looking at my laptop’s screen; doing some work related stuff. Its been five years now, and I couldn’t help but wonder if… if I could see you or even just have the opportunity to glance at you, here, again.

“I’m going to school now Mom, bye!” I kissed on her cheek then walked through my way out of the house, still biting a piece of bread. It is 7:00 in the morning and I have to hurry for my first class. Dad is now waiting for me inside the black sedan car together with my little brother to drive us to school. Oh! I haven’t introduced myself yet, my name is Shi Gutierrez, a typical grade nine student.

“Shi! Faster! Mrs. Data is almost here!” Hazel shouted at me when she’s on the second floor and I am still at the school grounds. By that time, I started running upstairs in order for me not to get late and receive a punishment. Our school is definitely strict in terms of time thus I really have to run. I catch my breath as I sit down on my chair, I gasp and sigh heavily knowing that there's still no teacher yet, and fortunately, after minutes, Mrs. Data, our English teacher, entered the room and announced something that would be the start of something. “Good morning class! Since this week is the start of the English Month Celebration, I am tasking you to execute a stage play of the novel, Romeo and Juliet” she smiled angelically. Everyone were shocked that only our Class president answered, “When is it ma’am?”

“In the coming month, I still have no idea for the final and exact date but be ready! Any questions?” the room filled with silence.

“Okay class, I want you to prepare for it because this is going to be a competition! Anyway, we will not have our classes starting today. I want you to focus on the preparation for your stage play! I am expecting so much from you since you are the first section, okay? See you!”

After leaving, the room was filled with noise of excitements. Then, my group of friends started teasing me to be part of the stage play because they knew I had some experiences. Time flies so fast, I, and my girl group of friends are now about to go to the school canteen to buy our lunch. We are seven girls in total and our classmates often call us as “girl group” because we would always gather to stick together and talks too loud. In the group, I am the one whose not easy to read, sometimes I would go silent and there are days wherein I would start the noise. People would always described me as a “social butterfly” and I kind of agree to the thought of it because I kind of know everyone here in our school, down from the school helpers, school guards to the higher positions. When we went back to our room, holding our drinks, everyone is occupied with their own businesses. Then without any hesitations, our class president stood up in front of the class, calling everyone’s attention. He discussed the agenda of finding who are the people who will act to be the characters of the play. While I am listening, the girls still pushes me to join, it was all fun until he, Mr. Class President looked directly at my way.

“Oh Romeo, Romeo! Wherefore art thou Romeo?” Yes, they appointed me to act as Juliet in the coming English month stage play competition. I did not even had the opportunity to decline because no one wants to do it either. We are now at the school grounds, amid the scorching sun, rehearsing our lines in our coming play. I already have prepared my costumes, props and other needed stuff. Everyone is participating since this is a whole-section project, thus, those who are not assigned as an actor or actresses are tasked for the making of props, backdrops, costumes, music and other tasks. By the way, the man who will act as the Romeo in our section, is our class president.

Everyone is currently occupied with their own tasks that keeps them bustle. I am at the backstage, fully prepared, wearing my first attire for the first act, a long beautiful dress, my hair is curled tied in a high bun. This is the day we have long prepared for.

“My only love sprung from my only hate. Too early seen unknown, and known too late!”

After our section’s performance, our director told us to stay and watch the presentation of other sections. I was definitely excited to watch, to see the other perspectives of the play but when the third section finished, I asked my girl group to accompany me to the restroom to change because I don’t feel comfortable with my costume anymore. But, when we are approaching the door to go inside the school hallways, where the nearest restroom is located, my friends approached this boy, lone with his bag and used-props. “He’s the Romeo of the last stage play” I mumbled on myself. I know no one even heard me because when I looked at him again, he is now surrounded by the girls. They are asking him something, and when I went nearer, he looks more serious, still in his Romeo-outfit, fixing his necktie, smoothly removing his vest and folding some props made of paper to fit on his small paper bag. Then my friend, Rose started teasing him and I was in awe because I don’t know him, yet these girls act like they knew him. “Can I have that sword?”, “The flower is nice, give it to me!” they are forcing him to give them his things and I was just there watching him really give the things the girls asked to. Then, Rose looked at me, and that’s the signal that it is now my turn to ask him, “I want your necklace!” without any hesitations, I proudly told him. I don’t even know what to get and ask from him because I’m not interested with his props and the only thing I saw that is something useful, is the necklace suspended on his neck; a silver one with a small rectangular pendant looking good with his outfit. Then, he paused for a while, looking at me intently. I thought he’s going to give it to me, just like how easy it is for him to give his other belongings to the girls. But, he continued fixing his things and didn’t bother to mind me. After the deafening silence, finally, the girls forbid their goodbyes to that Romeo-boy, I don’t know what to feel, I am not ashamed of what have happened, I admit that it is weird at some point because we don’t know each other. All I really want to do is to change my clothes! “Its okay Shi, don’t be sad” Rose said when we went inside the restroom. What? “Yes Shi, maybe he was tired since he played the character of Romeo. Actually, he was really good! He’s better with our section’s Romeo!” Ann declared, then they all laughed.

Since every section made an amazing presentation during the English month stage play competition, Mrs. Data promised us to be rewarded with good and fair grades. Its been three weeks since that event happened, and now while everyone thought that it will be rest days next week, our class president together with the vice president, entered the room with some news to disseminate. “Okay listen! Next Friday there will be a Seminar Workshop in Filipino in line with the celebration of Filipino Month. Everyone must attend because this is going to be our attendance.”

“A celebration for the Filipino Month” Rose red the tarpaulin outside our school gate. It is 8:00 in the morning and we are currently waiting in line to enter the audio visual room where the event will take place. When we reached the door, our class president gave each one of us a name tag with a lanyard. He said that we are supposed to wear it the whole day. Since we are the first section, we had the opportunity to sit in front. The event started and the flow of the program went light, there are guest speakers who used to be theatre actors and now teaches Filipino subject and acting. Since it is a workshop, other guest speakers call some representative from each sections to participate. Then, lunch time came. We are about to go to the school canteen when he, our class president called me. He gave me a bottle of watermelon shake and a biscuit. “Why?” I asked him. He just stood there, smiling, wearing his eye glasses, unable to talk.

And finally, the event ended, it lasted for many hours! Its time for the photo opportunity with the guest speakers. We are the first one to take photos with them and can go home after. The section two is now ready for the photo opportunity thus I went back on my seat and started fixing my stuff, when I am ready to go, my friends ask me to wait for them. So, I sat on the arm desk of the chair, feet still on the ground, to prevent losing control and balance. I was watching the other students taking pictures with the guests until a pair of arms wrapped around my neck blocking my view, I stiffened from my position and unable to move. He move backwards after putting a necklace on me, then that's when I knew, the Romeo boy! I wasn’t able to speak, looking intently at him and he smiled. “Sorry its late”, What? What’s late? Why are you just talking to yourself be mad at him! He invaded your personal space! “And sorry for almost touching you, but I didn’t” he said in his low voice. What now? Do you hear me? “Honestly, I cant give you this” he holds his silver necklace suspended on his neck just like when I first saw him “my father gave it to me, so I bought a new one for you. Hope you like it.” Oh. Whats happening? Why I couldn’t utter any words right now. Then he smiled and turn his back on me. Leaving me in awe, unable to move nor speak. What was that? My heart beats so fast. Its a foreign feeling, something I only feel towards him.

“Hot Americano for Rald!” the counter called for the customer. Then I was stiffened from my seat. I looked down, forcefully closing my eyes, “Don’t look!” I mumbled on myself. But the heart made the final judgment, I looked at the counter, meters away from me. No one is taking the coffee. I glanced on the other direction, there, I saw him, wearing a white fitted polo that compliments his masculinity, paired with a black trousers and a pair of black leather shoes. A luster from his necklace caught my attention, it is the same necklace before. A smooth swift of the chair then he stand proudly and walked towards his way to the counter, eyes on his silver watch, looks like he need to hurry. The romantic background music from the cafe makes me lose my track, my heart keeps beating so fast, with one hand, he gently holds his cup of coffee, with no emotion on his eyes, then, he suddenly turned his gaze directly at me. I stiffened from my position, can not able to look away. Those brown eyes I used to gladly stare at, are the same pair of eyes I’ve long forgotten. He looked away. Turned his back at me and went out of the cafe. I can now barely see him. I thought he’s not going to be here today, just like the past years. Now that he glanced at me, I can tell, that he don’t recognized me. Do people really can forget someone they’ve spent years with? Do they really forget everything through the years? Maybe people really forget things and people they chose to forget. But, I hope its a different matter in my case. According to his doctor, there are high chances of obsolete lose remembrance on his case, after the heart operation. Does the heart really forgets?

Maybe,

I should come here again,

more often.

#short story #fiction #new blog #story time #story

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